A Newsie Carol
by SomedayonBroadway
Summary: One man. Three ghosts. One more chance of redemption.
1. Once Again It's Christmas Eve

**So guys! I was just in a production of A Christmas Carol, and I loved it! It was the Alan Menken musical, if you don't know it, I highly recommend listening to it! It's beautiful! (The earlier one. Not the Hallmark one). But yeah... so now thats how we ended up here. I hope to post one chapter per day, it's almost completely written, so keep your fingers crossed. **

**Also, I know y'all really want Crutchie to be Tiny Tim... but guys... C'mon... you know me well enough to know who Tiny Tim is gonna be. **

**Anyways!**

**Please enjoy!**

Snyder was dead, to begin with. There was no doubt about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Pulitzer had signed it.

Old Snyder was as dead as a doornail.

For seven years now it had been that way. For seven years Pulitzer had been running this business on his own.

And things were going just swimmingly. Even on Christmas Eve.

Snow was falling fast outside the doors of the large publishing company. Carolers were singing all up and down the streets, blissful and content as they held their jars and boxes meant for that of charity. People tossed them coins and spared them a few dollars.

Not the man walking out of the elevator. In fact, the very sound of the cheery harmonies made him groan as he stormed out into the open.

"_Kelly_!" Pulitzer shouted as he made his way down into the lobby of his building. "Hurry up, damn it."

A young man, practically a boy, came rushing around the corner behind him, so many papers still in his arms from the meeting they'd had only mere moments before. He had on a pair of worn slacks and a jacket he hadn't buttoned up over a white dress shirt and grey tie. He looked more than exhausted. "I'm comin', Mr. Pulitzer! Sorry, sir!"

The old man turned to him and the young man skid to a stop, the papers and files in his arms falling on the floor as he fell to his knees. He bit his lip as he lowered his head in embarrassment and began to fish for the papers that had scattered every which way all over the ground.

The boss only glared at the young man who was struggling to keep up with him. Everyone around them stood almost eerily still, watching the scene in a tense silence. Pulitzer shook his head and took a moment to watch his assistant scrounge up the files and a few things he hadn't seen before. "What in _God's_ name is that?"

The young man quickly grabbed at those loose, scattered pieces of white paper with so many pencil sketches all over all of them. Some of people, some of scenery, some of random items. "Nothin', sir, 'm sorry, sir," he forced out quickly, trying to laugh it off, as if he had any dignity left after the months he'd had at this job.

The old man rolled his eyes and easily buttoned up his blazer, stepping over the boy on the ground and glaring at the rest of the large room as they gasped and immediately got back to themselves. The room was large and round and practically made of glass. It was beautiful.

And everyone was terrified to step through the doors.

Pulitzer found his gaze drawn to those windows, just at the front of his building where four happy carolers stood, ringing an annoyingly large bell in the faces of guilty Christians and Starbucks goers, knowing they'd toss a few coins into their red, metal basket.

The man's unforgivingly dark eyes didn't leave them for a good while. He fixed his blazer around his thin, tall frame and shook his head again, turning and almost falling into the young man who was finally standing from his position on the ground. Kelly, startled and a bit out of sorts, immediately took a step back, lowering his head in submission.

Joseph Pulitzer shoved past him. "Mr. Seitz!" he cried, causing the man at the front desk of his building to whirl around, even with the phone held at the crook of his neck.

"Yes, sir?" the large, red headed man asked quickly, knowing better than to keep the boss waiting.

"Get those wretched singers to move themselves before the police must get involved," he sighed, almost sounding defeated, like he felt bad for them.

He didn't. Lord knows he didn't.

The man at the phone stood stunned for a moment, letting out a small, nervous laugh, almost as if he though it was a joke. But Pulitzer didn't crack a smile. So Mr. Seitz nodded. "Right away, sir," he responded, unable to do much else.

That was all that needed to be said. Everyone knew not to question the boss. Unfortunately, not everyone had gotten the right amount of sleep the night before.

Pulitzer turned around with a nod only to be met with his clumsy assistant standing with great hesitance a few paces behind him. "But..." Kelly began, biting his lip mere moments later when he realized what he'd done. He lowered his head again, unsure of whether he was welcomed to continue or not.

But Pulitzer had already been interrupted. So he wished to see what his young, blubbering assistant was getting at. "But _what_, Kelly?"

Taking a small and shy glance around, the boy shrugged a bit. "It's... it's Christmas Eve..." he stated. "They're raisin' money f'r the children's hospital down the street..." he explained sadly, quietly, knowing he was way out of line, speaking to the man who'd given him a job like he was.

Scowling a bit at the information he'd been given, Pulitzer looked his assistant right in the eyes. Those green orbs were terrified of what was coming next. "Christmas is nothing more than a commercial holiday, Mr. Kelly. The sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be. Christmas is an excuse for a day off and a guilt trip that charities eat up every moment."

The young man bit his lip all over again and took a step back, looking all the more shy and terrified in that moment.

Pulitzer sighed and checked his watch, beginning to walk past the boy. "I suppose you were going to ask for tomorrow off," he practically growled, heading towards the doors where a new client would be arriving shortly.

The young man nodded tiredly. "It's... It's my kid brother, Mr. Pulitzer... he's real sick n'-"

"Give him some tea," the old man order gruffly.

But the young man shook his head in disbelief. "He's only six..." he stated, as if Pulitzer had known that. Finally coming to a stop at one of the desks in the front of the lobby, the young assistant managed to set down his pile of papers. Then he scratched the back of his neck. "Look... I'm all he's got right now, n' he needs-"

The old man whirled around right then and there, his eyes judgmental and ready to rip the kid a new one. "I do not need to know about you family or your hardship. It is not my job to take care of you or your brother or anyone else," he stated rudely, looking the young man up and down, almost in disbelief. "Christmas is by far the most incredible time of year when it comes to working, Mr. Kelly. Either you work or you go home and make no money to provide for yourself or your family. You decide which is more important," he spat.

It was only then that he noted the watery gaze in those forest green eyes. "Mr. Pulitzer... please... I'll neva' ask again..." he promised, as bravely as he could. It was still small and quiet. "He needs me right now..."

The boy was desperate, anyone and everyone could see that much. As Mr. Seitz walked past them to shoo those carolers away, he shot the young man a sorry look but did not speak up to help him.

Most everyone had the next day off. Everyone except for Mr. Pulitzer himself, and one Jack Kelly.

Though, someone else did. "Mr. Pulitzer, Jack has never missed a day! Tomorrow's Christmas Day. He deserves a break." The old man looked over at a small woman. She had fiery red hair that was tied back in a bun at the back of her head. There was a hint of an accent that slipped out with her words. Irish.

Jack smiled at her, a small, sad smile, as if to show his gratitude and tell her to just let it go. But she didn't. She walked closer to them with purpose. "Jack, no one needs to be here on Christmas Day, he's just too afraid to tell everyone he's scared to be alone, or facing the only family he has. So he's gonna come in and work and do something that we could all do on December 26th."

Pulitzer scowled when Jack's eyes widened in shock. That woman had some backbone on her. And when that boy looked towards her, she gave him a wink. So Jack hesitantly looked back up towards his boss who let out a long sigh. "Be here an hour earlier the next morning. But I suppose, if you must, take the day off," he offered between his teeth.

It didn't matter that that was said with such irritability. It still made Jack grin. "Yes! Of course! Thank you! Thank you so much!" he cried.

"Don't get too excited, Kelly. The day's still young," he sighed, turning back around.

"Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!" the young man laughed, nodding towards the woman in thanks as Pulitzer turned back to the door that was opening to bring in another client.

One that Pulitzer would no doubt drain the life out of.

But Jack was too happy to care about that poor sucker at that moment.

He was getting Christmas Day off from the meanest most irritating man in all of New York. And he was on Cloud Nine.

—

"Make sure Charlie reads him 'The Night Before Christmas' n' make sure he has 'The Grinch' with him, it's his favorite..." Joseph Pulitzer could easily be known as the most successful man in New York, maybe even the country. And he did not come to be so successful by letting his employees talk on the phone throughout the day. "Tell him I'll be there tomorrow... I know, but boss's got me workin' late every night n' I neva' wanna wake him. J'st... j'st tell him how much I love him, okay?"

"Kelly!" The man barked. Jack jumped at his small desk.

"I gotta go," he rushed out quickly before hanging up and shoving his old, cheap phone into his back pocket. "Sorry, Mr. Pulitzer..." he apologized sadly, giving the man his full attention.

Joseph grumbled something under his breath and walked passed the young man, into his large office. "Get me Frank on the phone, now. Clear your desk before you go and don't forget that you owe me an hour on Thursday!"

"Yes, sir!" the young man agreed, immediately doing as he was told. "And... Merry Christmas," he called softly after him.

Pulitzer turned around to glare. But he found his young assistant grinning as he got to his work. He ignored the oddly warm feeling in his chest telling him that that smile was somehow there because of him. He didn't need that.

"Oh! Mr. Pulitzer," Kelly called after a moment, just as the man had begun to turn his back on him. He turned back to see the desk phone up at the boy's ear. "There's a call waitin' f'r you already. Your daughter," he stated easily, shrugging a bit when Pulitzer gave him a questioning look. "Hannah just called ta tell me ta find you..."

"Okay, fine. If I'm not back in five minutes, come and get me and get Frank on the phone," Pulitzer sighed, shaking his head as he walked into his office, almost slamming the door behind him.

He thought maybe she'd given up this year. Maybe she'd just leave him alone.

But she was never one to give up.

So he grabbed the phone and held it to his ear. "Yes?" he practically growled out.

"Well hello to you too, Daddy," a sarcastic, feminine voice responded. While he would never admit it, he'd missed that voice. The voice of his wonderful little girl who had walked out on him so long ago.

"What is it, Katherine? I have a lot of work to do, here," he sighed, sitting down at his desk and unbuttoning his blazer. He clicked open his computer to few emails, too many festive alerts and holiday wishes.

He rolled his eyes.

A sigh came through the speaker of the phone. "Well, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to spend Christmas together? My friend Darcy and I were planning a little dinner at his father's house and... I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come?" she asked bravely. Though it sounded as if she already knew the answer to the question she was asking.

Hardly even truly listening, Pulitzer shook his head. "I really am very busy, dear. I'm not in the business of having people pick my pocket without consequence every year," he spat, hating the very idea of celebrating Christmas, having to buy gifts and pretend he cared about each and every person around him.

"We're not asking for anything but your presence, Dad. You don't have to bring anything or buy anything-"

"But your friend Darcy will pester me until I donate to his useless charity." Pulitzer argued, knowing very well how this went.

Just because he was fairly wealthy didn't mean it was his job to provide for others. He'd worked hard for his place in the world, and these people would only try to take it from him. "He's raising money for the homeless shelter, Dad. Money that you wouldn't even notice was gone if you bothered to donate," his daughter countered, sounding more and more irritated by the second.

But Pulitzer was not impressed. "The homeless shelter has nothing to do with me! If you're asking me, they'd all be better to die and decrease the surplus population!" he argued. Then he paused, knowing this wouldn't help the strained relationship he had with his little girl. The one who used to be the light of his life. But it didn't matter anymore. It was beyond saving. They were beyond saving. He heard her trying to speak.

All she managed to do was stutter for a moment, truly unsure of how to respond. Years of this. It was not how it used to be. It couldn't be. "I'm sorry," she finally said, and Pulitzer could hear the disappointment in her voice. "Goodbye, Dad."

"Goodbye, Katherine," he sighed, but she had already hung up the phone.

Vaguely, Pulitzer could feel a sort of regret. He should pick up the phone, call her back. But he didn't.

A knock on his door roused him from his thoughts and before Pulitzer even looked up, he barked at the person. "_What_?!" Kelly flinched a bit, moving to hide it with a small cough and a shrug.

"Frank is waiting on line one... I'm gonna head out..." he forced out a bit shakily.

Pulitzer didn't have any guilt in him in that moment. After all, who was this man to him? He didn't care about many people. Caring was messy. And Pulitzer was not a messy type of person. "Fine," was all he managed to bite out.

And Jack nodded with a grateful smile. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Pulitzer," the boy wished before rushing off, grabbing his backpack on the way out.

It was only then that Pulitzer realized how late it truly was.

But he didn't care.

He marched back over to his desk and sat down and picked up the phone. "Thank you for holding Frank..."

Because business didn't take a holiday. Not even on Christmas.

—

Walking home was a menace. Hell, getting out of his building was a the real challenge.

"Seitz, I told you to get these carolers out of here!" Pulitzer yelled as he made his way through the lobby. There they were, singing in perfect harmonies and getting a few coins and a couple dollars from people passing by.

The man behind the desk didn't answer. Because the man behind the desk was no longer there.

It was nine o'clock on Christmas Eve. Everyone had gone home. Everyone but him.

Grumbling under his breath, Joseph Pulitzer walked out of the large front doors, practically shoving his way through some baritones as he did so.

Someone caught his shoulder less than three feet out. He rolled his eyes. "Hello, sir! We're raising money to help the kids in the children's hospital! Anything you could give would be appreciated!" It was one of the young men. The rest of them kept singing.

Pulitzer shot them a fake, forced smile. "How about I give you all the sad truth, instead?" he forced out. The smaller man seemed taken aback by the offer, but didn't object to it. "Some of those kids are going to die. You can't save them all."

"But you can try," the stranger insisted, holding out one of the small cups full of donations.

Shaking his head in annoyance, Joseph rolled his eyes. "It has nothing to do with me," he spat before turning to go.

Only to almost run into someone else. "Oh my goodness, I am so sorry!" The short, plump, dark skinned woman apologized immediately. She laughed at herself, her smile bright enough to light up the night sky. Her nose and cheeks were pink from the cold, matching her coat and snug beanie. She seemed overly eccentric and much to overjoyed to be out in the freezing weather.

The old man did not share her excitement, closing instead to push past the caroler who was now standing in the way of his and the cab that was supposed to be waiting for him already.

It was late.

The young singer let out a small cry of offense when he was quite literally shoved aside. And the woman, young and so full of life, gasped at the rude treatment, just after she slipped a twenty dollar bill in with the collections. She turned to Pulitzer who only just stopped as she called after him, "Hey, have you forgotten how to smile, sir?" She sounded hurt, like somehow it was a crime against her.

He didn't care nearly as much as she seemed to. He turned to her, shrugging. "What am I supposed to be smiling about?" he inquired glancing up at the dark sky and then at the even darker world around him, despite the lights that made the stars impossible to see. "These carolers? Growing a year older and not an hour richer? Or perhaps because I have just witnessed such a kind act from such a kind samaritan." The words were spat out at her.

But she was not intimidated in the least. In fact, she stepped even closer towards him. "Life is passin' you by, my friend. You might just miss it." Then she walked right past him and straight into the cab just behind him. Before he could argue, the door was shut and she was gone.

Scowling hard and pulling his coat further around him as the wind picked up and the snow began to fall. "Of course," he muttered to himself. He shook his head and began walking, figuring he would find a cab somewhere along the way.

In Manhattan on Christmas Eve, he couldn't find a single one.

He walked down a few blocks, shivering in the cold and pulling away from everyone who tried to stop him and talk to him. He continued on angrily, regretting his decision to let his assistant leave so early. Kelly would have been useful at that moment, to call him some kind of car, to get him home somehow.

"Excuse me, sir! Can you reach that grate?"

Pulitzer groaned when he spotted the young man, reaching up for a grate at a small bodega. He was jumping, trying to pull it down with force. He could reach the thing. But he just couldn't get it to come down. He was young. In his mid twenties at most. He had pale cheeks and light brown hair, not unlike Jack's, though his was a bit thinner and he was definitely a bit taller than the other boy. "I don't have time or the care to do your work for you." Pulitzer tried to continue on, but the young stranger rushed over to him and put a hand up, trying to stop him, even as he continued to walk on.

"_Please_, I'll get fired!" he begged, looking more cold than Pulitzer himself, which made sense as all he wore was a button up uniform and a sweatshirt.

Still, the old man continued to walk on, hoping the kid would just give up. "Then I suggest you find a suitable job."

In a single second it got colder. The young man stopped, forcing Pulitzer to stop or else run into him. "You ought ta take the time to do some right, sir… sooner or later you'll be sorry you didn't." The bodega worker walked passed him, looking much less scared or helpless all of the sudden.

A bit more intrigued than he cared to admit, Joseph turned back to the younger man and watched him walk right on by the bodega, snapping his finger. The grate slid down with ease and the young man never turned back only to offer him a small wink. Then he walked around a corner, and he was gone.

An odd feeling crept its way into Pulitzer's chest. One he hadn't felt in a long while. One that was almost a sort of fear. But he kept walking. He kept walking towards home where he could just be warm.

It was so cold.

He hardly made it much farther before another voice was calling out to him. He growled a bit. "Got a coin ya could spare f'r a blind man, sir?"

"I have nothing for you," Pulitzer responded quickly.

But the old man was not done. His long white hair and beard were barely visible beneath the hood of the ratty old coat he wore that was a desperate attempt at keeping himself warm. What was much more visible were the pale blue eyes that pierced through the night. As Joseph tried to walk past him, a gloved hand grabbed at his arm. "I may be blind, but it looks like I can still see betta' than you can," the blind old man spat.

"Let go my arm!" Pulitzer cried, wrenching himself from the older man's grip.

"Oh, neva'mind, sir… go on, get outta here!" The blind man yelled, backing away and retreating back into the alleyway he'd come from. "Come the future, you'll rememba' me," he rasped.

Then he simply waked away, a black stick in hand to help him get around. But those words seemed to echo around in Joseph's head. Even as he turned to continue on his trek down the street.

It was freezing. He had to get home. He couldn't get caught by another person. He just wanted to go to bed.

He walked for a full hour before he could see his home. It was a large house, one many people envied from the outside. He huffed in relief when he saw it. That is when he heard another voice. "_Joe…_"

It was so quiet, it was almost like the wind. But Joe heard it. He gasped and whirled around, eyes widening, as no one had called him that for years. "Hello?" he called, his voice more hesitant than scared.

He was Joseph Pulitzer. He didn't get spooked.

But he was sure he was going insane.

He picked up his pace, heading straight towards his front door, only to hear the dark whisper again. "_Joe..._" It was louder this time.

And Joseph shook his head. "Leave me alone," he called, fishing in his pocket for the keys to his front door.

But when he finally found them, he dropped them on the ground. It was just his luck, he supposed. He sighed as he bent to to grasp them, straightening back up only to jump back in horror at the sight he saw in front of him.

A cry fell from his lips when he saw his door knocker has morphed into some kind of face. "_Joseph!_" it cried loudly. Strongly enough for half the city to hear. He ducked down, rushing to put his hands over his head and try to make sense of out what he'd just seen. Because he didn't understand it. He couldn't. None of it made sense.

Ghosts weren't real. But Joseph swore he'd just seen the face of someone he'd buried years ago.

"What the hell?!" he cried out, turning back to the door, ready to hit it or run away, surely one of the two.

But the face was gone like it had never even been there, and all that was there was his knocker. Pulitzer froze.

He was overly worked and overly tired. He was seeing things. Little things were getting to him. So he took a moment to gather himself, shrugging off the feeling of fright that was still coursing through his veins as he pulled himself together and forced himself to go through his front door.

He practically ran through the door and rushed up the stairs.

He wasn't scared, he was cold. And tired. And he needed sleep.

He slammed his bedroom door shut, refusing to acknowledge the emptiness of his large mansion. He didn't need that right now. He locked his bedroom door and lazily sauntered over to his chair to take his shoes off.

He failed to hear the sound of chains that followed him up the large stairs. That is, he failed to hear them, before it was too late...

**As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Love ya, friends!**


	2. Never Too Late To Change

**Here it is friends! Chapter 2!**

**Disneyfan10: We will find out eventually, I'd love to hear all the guesses! Thank you so much for the review!**

**Please enjoy!**

was cold. Increasingly cold. Joseph ignored it. After all, it was beginning to snow. It was December, for God's sake. He'd be worried if it wasn't cold.

But something was different about this particular cold. There was an eery feeling planting itself in his chest. One he chose to ignore as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

That is when he heard the chains.

He'd thought he'd imagined them at first. The clanging of metal on metal just beyond his door. He had to be imagining it. Just as he imagined his own voice being screamed at him and that face morphed on his door.

He was over stressed and over tired. That was all. He hadn't eaten in who knows how long.

But then it happened again.

"_Joseph..._"

It echoed all around the room. It came at him from every direction. An odd familiar voice. Something inside him was struck. "Will?" he asked, knowing it was impossible. William Snyder was dead and gone seven years ago.

Seven years ago that very night.

Chains clung all around. The walls shook. Pulitzer grasped onto the arms of his chair. Things fell from the shelves and he felt his seat moving around on the ground.

It was just an earthquake. It had to be an earthquake.

"_Joseph!_"

The man screamed. He didn't know what else he could do. Not when that voice hit him. Not when he looked over and saw the hands pushing at his once solid wall, almost as if it was rubber.

The hands burned red against it as something let out a terrifying moan. Chains got louder. It was only then that he noticed the metal things that were snaking around his bedroom floor. Around his feet.

He jumped up onto the chair, clinging to the large, comfy thing that normally was his place of relaxation. "Who are you?!" he demanded, his body beginning to tremble at the commotion that was happening around him. It was so much.

The hands that pushed against his bending wall somehow pushed completely through it, revealing arms that had to be connected to some kind of body.

That did not comfort Pulitzer at all. He looked down at the floor, preparing to jump before he saw the chains that hissed around on the ground trying to reach up for him. He was trapped. "Go away!" he demanded, surprise gripping at him when his voice cracked in fright.

Another moan echoed off the walls, only this time resulting in a resounding laugh that made Pulitzer's brain rattle. That's when a man came through the wall, easily stepping onto the hardwood floor like he did it everyday, like he owned the place. And Joseph was too shaken to correct him.

Standing there in an old, ratty suit was a ghostly pale figure, skin flaking from his bones and muscles, dust covering every inch of him. Chains hung from everywhere; his hands, his ankles, his waist, his neck. There was a stab wound through his heart and an evil, crazed kind of smile on his face.

His eyes were white, orbs outlines in grey. "Joseph Pulitzer!" he called happily.

Pulitzer screamed.

Again.

"Oh, Joe, don't tell me you don't recognize me!" the... the_ thing_ demanded.

Joseph didn't know what it was. Not really. Because that thing wasn't real. It was a figment of his imagination. "Go away!"

"Now, Joey, is that anyway to speak to your only friend?"

His only friend. His only friend was dead. "No... no, you're... you're not here..." he insisted.

"Why do you doubt your senses?!" it demanded, sending a chill down Pulitzer's spine. One that shook his body enough to almost cause a fall from the chair. "It's me, Joe! Old Willy Snyder in the flesh!" he laughed.

His voice boomed, echoing across five boroughs and back. He had too much confidence. For a single moment, Pulitzer was transported back through time, back to a time when he was drawn to such confidence, craved it even. Had to be around it. "You're not William Snyder," he hissed angrily as the mysterious creature circled him, chains rattling and clanging down on the ground. "Any old thing can affect the senses..." he decided. Because this man was not William Snyder.

He couldn't be. Because William Snyder was a legend. And this... this man was was just rotting flesh and bone bound by heavy metal that practically dragged his slouched form to the ground.

Mr. Snyder wouldn't let anything weigh him down. It was against the laws of physics.

"It... it must've been something I ate. It must've been whatever Hannah grabbed me for lunch," he stated, making a mental note to speak to his secretary the very next time he got the chance. There was no way she was getting away with that. He had food poisoning. He was certain of it. "It's... it's that fish that she forced on me! You're not real!"

The chains screamed out in agony just as the deteriorating man before him let out a distressed moan at the disbelief that was thrown his way. The room shook again. The lights flickered on and off and the window began to clang open and shut again and again.

Pulitzer held tighter to his furniture. "Okay! Okay! I believe! I believe!" he insisted with a scream of fright as the spirit flew to him.

The ghost. The ghost of one William Snyder. His partner. His best friend. His only friend.

"Why are you here?!" he demanded shakily. "What do you want?!"

The ghost's unholy moan turned back into a booming laugh in an instant. "Oh can't a fella ever stop by, just to visit a friend?" He was just the way that Pulitzer remembered him. Arrogant, annoying and unbelievably cruel. But his friend, nonetheless. When Joseph made no move to respond, the spirit of a once wealthy, expensively dressed man, smirked at him. "Oh why so distressed, Joseph? Here I thought you'd be happy to see me?" he pouted.

Joseph scowled at him, still somewhat believing this to be a trick. "I would be happy if I were simply allowed to go to bed," he growled out angrily. Exhaustion, hunger and terror were never a good mix. It was something he'd learned long ago.

He just wanted to go to bed.

But the ghost only scowled right back at him, taking a few heavy steps closer to him, dragging long chains across the cold, hard floors. "I am here to bring you a message, old Joe," he explained, his voice suddenly void of the fun and hilarity he had found mere moments ago. His white eyes stared deep into Josephs's soul, but the old man's eyes were fixated on the chains that parted to allow the Great William Snyder to step closer and closer to his chair, snapping at him, almost taunting him as he walked by. "Every man has chances. Countless. Chances," he described vaguely. He only came to a stop when he was inches from Joe's face and the other man could no longer lean back any further. "Apparently, we did no good in the world, Joseph."

It was almost a joke. But when Jospeh looked the man up and down, he realized that those chains had to be there for a reason. Chains were not meant for good people, for good souls. They were meant for the wicked.

"We mocked the weak and swindled the poor, as they say…" Snyder chuckled darkly, reminiscing on the past that he must have missed dearly in the afterlife. "These chains are a reminder of the pain that we inflicted on people together."

Something in Pulitzer's chest was beating incredibly fast. He didn't know how to stop it, or if he even could. "What do you mean?" he asked.

The decaying man's dead eyes looked up at him as if he had just said something in a language he didn't understand. Every chain seemed to stop slithering and hissing around him. That was when Snyder grabbed him by the collar. "The coins that we kept, they're in these boxes that are dragging on the floor," he spat out, as if his old friend were stupid, as if he hadn't been listening. "There's locks and chains around my waist, because of the ones that I used to keep the poor away from me! It got longer and longer as time went on! Everything I did added a chain to these links!"

Jospeh flinched when the man yelled in his face. The only reason he hadn't fallen back directly into those hungry chains is because of the tight grip still in his shirt. "Will!" the man cried, not understanding why the man was yelling at him and threatening him so demeaningly.

"I have warn these chains around my neck for seven years running, Joe. Seven. Years!" The man enraged and… tired. So, so tired. Suddenly, it was so clear to Joseph. The way the man's voice shook and the way his limbs wouldn't fully move. "They have been carrying their's for longer…"

Eyebrows furrowing together, Pulitzer shook his head, about to ask who the other man was talking about before he was able to see other ghostly white figures revealing themselves around the room. The chains on the ground belonged to them. And they were moving faster now as the group moaned and hobbled and jerked towards him. "And if you continue down this path, Jospeh Pulitzer, the same thing will happen to you!" Snyder growled out.

They were moving closer and closer to him. Joseph screamed.

"I came to give you a warning, old friend…" the deadman rasped, seeming to get weaker and weaker by the second. "This is your chance… and it may be your last. So you will be visited by three spirits," he stated seriously. "When the clock strikes one, the ghost of Christmas Past..."

"I prefer not to think about the past," Pulitzer insisted, daring to try and step on the ground. The mangled ghosts spastically reached for him, their heads and arms moving disjointedly. He jumped back to the chair, holding tightly to it as they surrounded him.

The spirit of his old friend was unfazed and continued on like he hadn't heard him at all. "When the clock strikes two, the Ghost of Christmas Present..."

"At present I'd rather go to bed!" the terrified man insisted again, taking another glance around his room. The ghosts were all around him, clanging with their chains and trying like hell to be free of them.

They couldn't be. They were forced to carry those heavy chains through eternity. Nothing could stop that now.

"When the clock strikes three..." Snyder chuckled, his white eyes moving back and forth like an old bell. "The Ghost of Christmas yet to be..."

Shaking his head, Pulitzer continued to look for a way out. "No thank you!" he cried out, praying he'd wake up now.

The grip on his shirt tightened and he was forcefully pulled forward. "Listen to me, Joseph!" the ghost in front of him demanded. "You've been given chances and this is your last one! Take it or end up like me!" he spat out before shoving the other man backwards.

Joseph gasped as he fell backwards, off of his only safety, and the ghosts and chains closed in on him. "No! Will!" he cried, begging his friend to save him as he was swallowed whole by the chains that held him down to the floor.

The wrapped around his limbs, making it harder and harder to move and the spirits around him simply stared, almost curious at the scene before them. He breathed hard, trying to get up, to move.

But he couldn't.

It was too much for him. His world was beginning to fade. Everything was going black. But just before his eyes rolled back into his head completely, there was one voice that he heard screaming at him. One final plea. One final warning.

"_Change_!"

That was when Pulitzer passed out.

**As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review!**


	3. Ought To Take The Time For Doin’ Right

**Hello friends! Here we are again! **

**Disneyfan10: Great guesses! But not quite on target, although i did debate some of those :). Thank you for reviewing! **

**selizabethharrisburg: oh my gosh!! Ive missed your reviews! Yeah, I realized that I'd been doing that and kind of stopped myself as best I could. I hope this chapter is a little better! Thank you so much, Holly! Love ya!**

**PeggyLaurens1: Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy it!**

**Thank you all! **

**And here you have it! **

**Past! **

**Enjoy! **

By the time one o'clock could even roll around, Pulitzer had somehow managed to find himself in his bed.

He'd dreamed it. That's what had happened. It's what had to have happened.

The old clock on the wall rung out. It stroke one. Almost instinctively, Joseph's eyes shot open. He was subconsciously clinging to his blankets, pulling the sheets up to his chin in anticipation, simply thinking about the nightmare that couldn't be real.

He stared straight ahead for a moment, almost believing something might happen.

Nothing did.

"_Spirits_..." he grumbled to no one, ashamed at himself for believing this nonsense might for a moment be true.

Spirits weren't real. Ghosts weren't real. Christmas was just another day.

A day he'd gladly skip over.

He closed his eyes again, rolling over and easily taking in the comfort of his warm, soft bed. Sleep would come back for him.

Only, when he turned to his other side, he caught only a glimpse of someone standing over his bed. For only a second he ignored it, convincing himself that it was just his imagination again. And then...

"Tossing and turning, are we?"

The man gasped and jumped backwards, his back hitting the wall quick as he tried to figure out who on earth had broken into his home only to frighten him so.

What he found was a spritely young man, solemn yet full of a fiery energy that Joseph could feel buzzing all around the room. He was dressed all in white and gold, a sparkling tie around his neck and matching shoes that were up on Pulitzer's bed as the person had somehow managed to jump up onto the foot of his bed frame. His brown hair was styled neatly, and ran to the tips of his ears, whitening out at the end, not looking old, looking purposeful and somehow still still so young.

Upon closer inspection of the intruder, Pulitzer realized something all too quickly.

He knew this man.

"_You_! You're that boy!" He recalled, bringing his hand up to wag a finger at the person who must simply be playing some kind of cruel trick on him. "The one at the store-"

"No, no, Joseph!" the stranger laughed, his light eyes sparkling as he looked at Pulitzer so intently. "I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past!"

Not believing his own ears, Joseph didn't move, simply staring at the so-called ghost, maybe waiting for it to simply fade away, to leave his subconscious. But this all felt to solid to be a dream. "You're not real," he muttered, hoping it would just go away, hoping it would be nothing. It was just a person. And if it were just a person, the person could be arrested. Reaching for his phone, Joseph moved to call the cops.

But, without anyone's prompting, the young spirit stepped down from its position and moved towards Pulitzer's locked window. "Come along, Joe. We've got lots to see and not nearly enough time to see it!"

With a quick wave of his hand, the spirit somehow pulled Pulitzer blankets clean off of him, leaving him cold in just his sweatpants and t-shirt. "I'm not going anywhere!" he insisted, not liking the sound of this at all. "Leave me be!" The demand was more of a plea. Pulitzer did not like ghosts.

And the thought of revisiting his past seemed even more daunting.

"Oh, c'mon Mr. Pulitzer! Afraid to revisit our demons?" the ghost mocked, pulling the window open. The cold wind picked up and made the place even more freezing. "There's not a thing to be afraid of. These are just memories. They are what they are and nothing on earth can change them," he explained, a sort of excitement in his voice as he turned back to the old man who scowled at him. "Oh come now! It wasn't all so bad!"

Before Joseph could even think to make another noise of protest, the spirit rushed forward to him, more gliding than running, and took him by the arm. "I can and _will_ have you arrested, sir!" Pulitzer barked out as he was dragged over to the open window.

The spirit only laughed and shook its head. "Look out there, Mr. Pulitzer. It's Christmas morning…"

The world was brighter than it had been mere seconds ago when Joseph was forced to look out into the cold world from what had just been his own window. In fact, it looked like it were morning.

"Joseph, stop chasing your big brother around and come help set the table for breakfast. Your father is almost home!"

That voice… he knew that voice. He hadn't heard it in years. Not for a decade. "Mother?" he called curiously, whirling around to find that the spirit who had just forced him to the window was now standing beside him, simply watching the scene before him.

They were no longer in his apartment. They were standing in the middle of a small home. They were a long ways from the sleepless streets of New York City. "You were a child once," the somewhat smug young man acknowledged, glancing over to him with a sort of softness in his eyes as Pulitzer stared straight ahead with stunned, longing eyes. "Remember?"

"I'm coming, mother!" a small little boy called as he rushed just passed the ghost and the old man. Joseph all but jumped backwards, terrified of a collision, before the ghost caught his arm.

"We're not really here," he explained calmly, nodding towards the kid who was making Jospeh's heart break in two. "They can't hear us, they can't see us, and they can't touch us. Just… watch…"

"What about Andres?!" the child whined, a bookmark still held tightly between his small hands. "He took my book and he won't tell me where he hid it!!"

"Andres! Get down here with your sisters! It's time to set the table!"

There was a sound, almost like a herd of animals rushing down the stairs of the small, run down place. But the tightness of the home was not what Pulitzer was focused on. No. It was those kids running down the stairs. Those many, precious children. "Annie… Kate… Gia… Jane… Paula… Andres…" he breathed as they rushed into the room, loud and playful as ever. Two boys. Two boys and five girls, even more loud and rambunctious. "Yes…" he admitted with a small, broken smile. "Yes… I remember them…"

The spirit allowed itself a small smile at the melting of this old man's heart. He let out a small laugh as well, only causing the man's smile to disappear all too quickly as Pulitzer turned back to him. The tears in his eyes were clear as day, but the walls were built back up quick. "What?" the man demanded, not liking the way the ghost smirked at him.

The young spirit shrugged. "Two minutes and you're frozen heart is already thawing out," he chuckled. "Maybe you're not as cruel as you thought you were."

The man's gaze sharpened on the thing beside him, the illusion that spoke to him as if he had any idea what memories were resurfacing in his brain. "Maybe you shouldn't be speaking of things you don't understand," he spat out. His voice was quiet, almost as if he were afraid to ruin the scene before him.

Something flashed across the ghost's face before he nodded and turned back to the small kitchen that stood inside, the one where a mother of seven slaved over a hot stove and seven kids climbed over each other to get to the plates and cups. "Just watch, Joe…"

"Joey!" Jospeh's heart skipped a beat entirely at that small, loving voice. "Joey, catch!"

The littler boy, the youngest of all those kids, easily caught the bundle of napkins that were tossed his way. He ran around the woman in the room to help his big sisters set things out on the table. "Andres… can I have my book back now?" The boy asked, looking up at the taller boy who stepped up closer to him to spread out some plates.

The older boy only gave out a sly smile and shook his head. One of the girls chuckled a bit at the secrecy that young Joseph simply could not wrap his head around. "_Shhhh_!" Andres insisted, just as she ran a hand over his hair.

"He hid it from you… because there was a better book waiting for you beneath the tree that morning, wasn't there?" The spirit implored, smiling at the heartwarming scene of the large family, playing with each other and laughing with each other.

Joe simply nodded his head. "Yes… he always loved to get me books…" he stated, his voice lightening a little bit at the memory.

"But your father… he never came home that morning, did he?" It was all too easy. The memories rushed to Pulitzer's mind in mere seconds and he sniffled as he shook his head. "He was arrested for fraud and embezzlement. And he left you and your sisters and your mother to fend for yourselves-"

"He was trying to provide for us!" Pulitzer hissed. "He was doing what he had to do to provide for his family!"

It had been a long time. A long time since Pulitzer had rushed to defend the man who had left him feeling lost and helpless when he had been so young. "Your mother did her best… but no one provided for you more than one boy… your brother… Andres…"

The world faded just a little, giving Pulitzer a more focused view on the two little boys in the small kitchen, one hardly nine and the other fifteen. Andres and Joseph Pulitzer. Brothers closer than most. "Merry Christmas, Joey…"

Watching himself lean on that older boy, Joseph felt one single tear fall down his cheek, finding himself whispering a small, "Merry Christmas, Andres…" As the boy completely faded from view.

"Spirit… take me home…" he demanded, still finding the disbelief in his voice. He was angry. He couldn't help that he was angry. He wanted to wake up, to stop thinking of such terrible things. He wished he'd just forget.

Maybe that way it would all be just a little bit easier.

"That was just one memory, Joseph…" the spirit sighed almost sadly. "One of many…" There was a calming nothingness that surrounded them for just one moment before the whole world spun again, making the old man dizzy as he tried to take in where they were headed now.

"There's nothing wrong with not going to college, Joe…" a voice sighed, as if it had a million times before. "I'm going to protect our country. It's important. You have to understand that. It's not because I'm trying to leave you, it's because I love you and I want to provide for you and protect you."

"And he didn't really have a choice," the spirit mumbled.

Looking over with a small scowl, Pulitzer glared. "Yes, thank you, I understand that," he stated obviously. Maybe he hadn't when he was a child. But yes, that much he could understand.

There it was. The beginning of it all. The conversation that led to everything that was still so hard to think about. "But I wanna come with you! I don't wanna stay with Annie! I wanna come with you!"

The spirit beside him cooed, clearly touched by the small scene of Joseph himself, only twelve years old, clinging to his big brother's waist as he tried to finish cleaning up his room for the last time. Pulitzer just rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You are more irritating than my bumbling assistant," he muttered, hardly even thinking about it.

The ghost just laughed at that, as if it knew something that Pulitzer didn't. "Just remember, Joe… Let it come back for a moment…"

"I do not think of the past, it makes it increasingly difficult to focus on the future-"

"The future is nothing without the past, Joseph!" The words were clear and harsh and the spirit was not phased by them. Though, Pulitzer had a sneaking suspicion that it knew the immediate response of guilt and shame that took over inside him.

The ghost was right. The future would not have happened if it hadn't been for the past. For this moment. Maybe Pulitzer could've realized his love for books sooner. Maybe he could have just had a mind of his own rather than wanting to follow dumbly in this boy's footsteps. He was the problem. He always had been the problem.

It was his fault.

In the small bedroom that they were in, Andres sighed and leaned down, lifting young Joey up by the armpits and settling him up on one of the four beds in the room. "Joseph… you're not ready yet…"

"When will I be ready?" the little boy whined, clearly hating the idea of all of this as he crossed his skinny army over his small chest. "You're leaving on Christmas Eve! I just wanna come with you!"

Shaking his head just a little, Andres allowed himself a small smile. "Look… one day, when your old enough, if you still want to… you can come with me, okay?" he promised gently, leaning over the boy who was relentlessly pouting at him.

The younger boy let out a huff as he let himself accept it. But he couldn't help the desire inside him, the one that so desperately wanted to be at his big brother's side at all costs. He just wanted to be with Andres, the one who provided for him and got him through so much of his little life.

But that wasn't always how it could work.

Suddenly there were shots being fired all too quickly. Everywhere Jospeh turned he was surrounded, though he was in the middle of nowhere, no longer in the safety of a bedroom he'd shared with his brother and sisters.

No… It was an ambush. And he was standing right in the middle of it.

"Spirit! Take me away from here!" Joseph demanded above the defining sound of those firearms. "Please!"

Everything froze. Everything went silent. It was bright. Too bright. Pulitzer could see everything. He didn't need to. Not again. He remembered it all too well. He could relay every detail, recall every name, remember every cry.

He could remember his brother. He could remember the way he was shoved down, out of the way of everything as that idiot… as his hero cried out in agony, death gripping at him before he hit the ground.

It took several moments for the man to recognize that he was no longer watching the scene in front of him. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, and yet he could see it. He could see the moment his life took a turn into a dark tunnel, one he wasn't sure he would ever find a way out of.

"Spirit, why do you delight in torturing me?" he asked, his voice a bit quieter than it had been before.

The ghost simply kept his gaze soft on the frozen scene as he shook his head. "These are shadows of things that have been…" the spirit sighed sadly as Joseph felt himself beginning to break. "They are what they are. Do not blame me…" It was a small request, one that Pulitzer could hardly bring himself to comply to. After all, if not for this spirit, he would still be safe in his bed, gladly resting in a dreamless sleep, thinking about none of this nonsense that was so far in the past. "You haven't seen your sisters since the funeral…"

"They wouldn't want to see me!" Pulitzer cried. It's true. He had lost touch with them all, not daring to show his face around them any more. It would be too much. Too much for all of them. "Would you just leave me be?!" the old man demanded, but the spirit was not done with him yet. And before he could look up, the scene had once again transformed around him.

"Come now, Joseph… your life wasn't all that bad…" the ghost stated, trying desperately to cheer him up somehow. Though even that spirit understood that such a traumatizing moment would never fully be recovered from. The young spirit lifted its hands, bringing them back down quick to its sides as the world whirled once again. "You had some good times as a young man! Don't you remember?"

Music began to play somewhere in the back of Joseph's mind. It was soft at first before it grew and grew, giving him a sort of calm that almost completely washed him over. They were carolers. The voices were precise and experienced and before Joseph knew it, he was inside all over again, surrounded by at least a hundred people, giddy and jolly as ever, drinking and singing at the top their lungs as the choir onstage led them.

It was a Christmas party. One that made Joseph's tears pause for a moment.

He remembered this party. He remembered that large, sparkling tree that almost touched the ceiling that was so far above them. He remembered the winding stair case and the glistening lights everywhere. He remembered the champagne and the suits and the dresses. "It's Teddy's Christmas party," he whispered, as if the spirit hadn't already known. He remembered it all too well, a great man throwing a Christmas party for every employee who had ever worked for him. He never turned anyone away. Not ever.

It was Pulitzer's old boss. The one who had given him a job after he'd come back home with nothing. But that is not what the spirit truly wanted him to focus on. "But who, may I ask, is that beautiful creature?" the ghost implored, stepping past him and gesturing over to a beautiful young woman who seemed to be pushing her way through the ridiculously riled crowd.

It was like the moment was happening all over again for the first time when Joseph looked at her. His heart skipped a beat and his palms got all sweaty. He couldn't remember how to breathe or speak his own name. It was like the rest of the world stopped as all he could see was her. "Oh…" he breathed, remember this like it was yesterday. "That… That's Emma…" he stated,

"Emma…" the spirit nodded, smiling towards the young woman in the golden evening dress that all but glided right towards the young man that was waiting at the base of the stairs the second she saw him.

"Oh Joseph! You made it!" she cried happily, jumping up into his arms.

"Of course I did, my love!" he assured happily.

Unable to help it, Pulitzer smiled at the soft scene. "Of course I did, my love…" he repeated. He'd loved that party, that night. That woman. He was hopelessly in love and she knew it.

They were so lost in each other, laughing about nothing and unforgivingly gazing into each other's deep eyes. They didn't even look up to see a man walk around the corner. "Ah, there you are, my boy!" he cried with a smile. "I have yet to see either of you out on the dance floor! This party wasn't meant for standing around! Go on! Go have fun! You deserve a break!"

It was the one any only Teddy Roosevelt. His old boss. The one who had started off his entire career.

The one he'd left behind.

Emma giggled and grabbed young Joseph by the hand, curtsying before — quite literally — dragging him onto the dance floor and pulling him close to her.

Joseph took only a few steps forward, cocking his head to the side as he watched his cheeks turn pink and his own eyes widen when that precious woman lay her head on his shoulder when the music began to slow down. He held her closer, praying it was okay and hoping she wouldn't figure out that she was much too out of his league.

He knew what that stupid young man was about to do. As people left the dance floor, he could practically feel it all over again, the way his heart began beating so much faster. "Emma…" the young man whispered, pulling away from her just a bit as they swayed together on the dance floor. When she looked up at him he froze.

Hands clasped on Pulitzer's shoulders as the ghost leaned over him, a big, stupid grin on his face. "This is my favorite part!" he squealed like a juvenile.

Pulitzer could hardly find it in himself to be annoyed as a small smile speed on his lips too when he watched himself get down on one knee and pull out a small box from his jacket pocket. "I love you," he watched himself say proudly. "And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to have a family and raise our kids with you and I want to move into a big house and wake up early to make you breakfast and I want to keep that smile on your face until the day I die…" he rambled, a small laugh cutting him off at the end.

It might have been pathetic, desperate even. But anyone would have been desperate when they had such a perfect person with them and wanted to keep it that way.

Pulitzer got to watch those big, chocolate brown eyes tear up all over again. He got to watch her hands rush up to cover her mouth and nose. He got to watch as she vigorously nodded her head, tears rushing down her perfect cheeks as she held out her left hand to him, allowing him to fumble for a moment, trying desperately to get the small ring out of the box. She laughed at him and he laughed right back, finally succeeding in the task and easily slipping the ring onto her finger, standing up just in time to catch her lips in his.

A warmth flooded through Pulitzer at that.

"I love you, Joseph! I love you so much!" Emma cried, kissing his cheeks and forehead repeatedly. "I want a family and a house and a life with you!" Those were all the words that Pulitzer had wanted to hear.

But his young self shook his head. "A family can wait. Until I have enough saved for them. For our kids," he breathed, his heart fluttering as he merely uttered those words. "I'll make a good life for us, Emma, I promise… I promise…"

"Whatever happens, Joe… we do it together, okay? Always…"

Nodding and bringing her to him again as the crowd around them cheered, young Joseph smiled. "Always," he agreed.

Only for a moment did Pulitzer'd smile falter. He could hardly think about what came next. All he could do was live this moment, this beautiful, precious fleeting moment all over again.

Before it was gone.

But his smile only grew when he heard the sound of a baby crying. A wailing, writhing infant came into view as the world around him changed all over again. The spirit beside him was patiently watching him reminisce as voices were heard.

"She's beautiful!"

"She has your nose!"

"Would the father like to cut the cord?"

The father. Pulitzer remember this moment all too well too. How could he not? This was the day Joseph Pulitzer became the father of a healthy, seven pound, eight ounce baby girl with her mother's puppy dog eyes. Katherine Ethel Plumber.

His baby girl.

"I know this one didn't happen on Christmas…" the spirit admitted, almost as a joke. "But this was the most important moment of your life, Joseph," he explained, a small smile on his face as he stepped forward.

The man had no more will left in him to be angry. This was the most important day of his life. If he could go back, he would in a heartbeat. "I was convinced we were going to have a boy…" he stated plainly. "I was set on the name David Joseph and Emma told be that if we did that, we would've had to call him 'DJ,'" he laughed, shaking his head.

The spirit smiled. "David… like _David and Goliath_?" he asked curiously, only for Pulitzer to nod.

"Yeah… Katherine was better than anything I could've ever imagines, though… So much stronger than that story…" he sighed, sniffling a bit as he remembered his phone call earlier that day. Something in his chest hurt. Something was pulling at his heart as he watched himself, his young, stupid self, allow a nurse to gently place that baby girl in his arms.

It was the first time he'd ever held his daughter. It was the most indescribable feeling he'd ever experienced in his life.

Suddenly that baby girl was a toddler, still up in her daddy's arms as he twirled her around a small Christmas tree in the middle of a small but functional apartment.

Emma, a little older but not any less breathtaking, was singing at the top of her lungs as little Katherine laughed and giggled while squirming around beneath her father's tickling fingers. "_Santa's on his way! He's filled his sleigh with things! Things for you and for me! It's that time of year, when the world falls in love, every song you hear seems to say 'Merry Christmas, may your New Year Dreams come true!_'" It was by no means perfect, but it was still everything to Joseph.

"Daddy!" she squealed, only succeeding in making Joseph's smile widen. "Momma! Help me!"

Still grinning wildly as she grabbed a candy cane off the table, Emma rushed to her aid, aiming the makeshift weapon directly at her husband, as though it were a small handgun. "That's my daughter you have there, sir," she stated. Jospeh paused in his tickling.

"Oh is it?" he asked, giving her a curious look as Katherine still wiggled around in his embrace. "Well then, you're gonna have to come and get her, now aren't you?" he smirked, his voice low and falsely daring.

But Emma was not intimidated. She took three confident strides forward and grabbed onto the collar of Joseph's shirt, pulling him down towards her. She smirked as she leaned in for a kiss.

Pulitzer's heart soared.

"Ew!" Katherine cried, covering her young eyes as her father chuckled against her mother's lips.

But the Emma easily scooped her baby up in her arms as laughed. "There you go, pumpkin! You're safe with Momma now," she promised.

Katherine laughed.

So did Joseph.

And so did Pulitzer. "She was the perfect child…"

"But you pushed her away…" the spirit stated, almost like he didn't understand why. "And you pushed her mother away too…"

Joseph didn't respond immediately. He couldn't. He was too caught up in trying to focus on that scene in front of him before it faded away forever.

"Joseph!" he heard in the distance. "Joseph!"

It was her. It was Emma.

But Joseph, a little older but definitely not any wiser, sighed, not even glancing up. "Joey, shut up your old lady, please!" someone else groaned.

Joseph winced. "Oh, Spirit… don't show me this…" he begged, unable to tear his gaze away from the scene in front of him. "Please don't show me this…"

"Joseph, you promised your daughter you would be there last night for her recital and instead you were here with Will, doing God knows what. Tell me what I'm supposed to do, Joe. You're never home to help me. I never see you!"

Pulitzer shook his head. "Go home, Joseph," he begged as he watched himself spin around in a chair. A chair that had been pushed up against someone else's desk. William Snyder. His business partner. "Just go home…"

"I am sorry darling, but it was just one recital, I'm sure she will survive," he sighed put, hardly looking up from the papers that were in his hands. The paperwork that for some reason he seemed so interested in, as if his wonderful, beautiful wife wasn't standing right there in front of him.

"It's Christmas Eve, Joe," she stated, the disappointment and hurt clear in her voice. Joe pretended not to hear her as he read over the files. "Are you going to come home?"

The man did not answer and Joseph scowled at himself.

Emma shook her head and sniffled, taking off her wedding ring. They'd been married for almost seven years now and had a daughter who was six years old. And Joseph was leaving them behind to make his fortune and keep it.

He watched as his younger self didn't even notice when that small, silver ring was left on his own desk. "Goodbye, my love…" the woman whispered as she backed towards the door.

"Get up, you idiot," Pulitzer called as he ran up towards himself. He watched himself as he didn't move from his seat. "Go after her, Joe! Go on! Get up!"

"You cannot change it, Joseph," the spirit stated.

"Go after her, you fool!" the man cried anyways, his head hurting as he watched himself loose, not just one, but two more people. The most important people. His wife and his daughter who weren't home when he got there.

"Joseph-" the spirit tried, as if it was trying to offer him some sense of comfort.

It didn't help.

"Leave me be!"

The sun rose on that office as not only a night passed by, but years did. "Your wife left that night and she took Katherine with her. You never got to see her or spend time with her and she tried not to blame you. She still loves you…"

Years went by and Christmases were spend at the office, loathing himself, drinking fifths of vodka with the only friend he had left in the world as they both wallowed in self pity.

Until one final Christmas Eve that was Joseph's last straw.

Will had looked under the weather that day, slower than normal, not making so many quick with remarks. The ambulance was already there when the scene became clear around them and Pulitzer couldn't help but be grateful the spirit hadn't made him watch his friend fall to the ground all over again. "William Snyder died… seven years ago on Christmas Eve night. And you were the only one with him…"

Pulitzer let the tears fall, even if they were few. Christmas had only rarely been a friend of his, mostly being his worst enemy and a reminder of the ones he'd lost and shoved away.

"Spirit, enough!" Joseph cried, dropping down to his knees as the shadows and memories ceased completely. Suddenly he was back in his own home, in the middle of his bedroom floor.

The spirit stood over him, looking down on him sadly. "These are the shadows of things that have been… they are what they are… do not blame me…" it whispered, backing away from him without making so much as another sound.

The clock chimed.

Once.

Twice.

But Pulitzer didn't move. He didn't want to. All he felt was remorse and guilt.

He knew that there was another spirit on its way, surely ready to break him down even further.

As quickly as he could, he gathered himself and looked around his room, pushing himself to his feet and wiping his sleeve over his cheeks to dry his pathetic tears. He cautiously took a step over to his bed, peaking beneath it.

Nothing.

He checked behind his chair.

Nothing.

Perhaps it wasn't coming. Perhaps the nightmare was over.

But Pulitzer made the mistake of letting his guard down as he drug himself back over to his blankets and pillow, only for someone to be staring right at him from the other side of the mattress.

"_Boo_!"

The man screamed.

**Okay, friends! I really hope you enjoyed that emotional rollercoaster because I sure as hell did. **

**Anyways**

**As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Love ya, friends!**


	4. Have You Forgotten How To Smile

**Hi again, folks! Welcome to the present! I'd still love to hear more guesses for the ghosts (though this one of fairly obvious... it just is...) **

**PeggyLaurens1: Thank you so much! **

**selizabethharrisburg: Holly, thank you so much! I'm sure there's some typos everywhere. Editing is not my greatest strength. But I'm so glad you like this story! **

**Disneyfan10: I know! This poor person! Thank you so might! **

**Alright friends...**

**Please enjoy! **

"You… I know you! Your that-"

"Oh of course you know me! I'm that happy spirit that you get when you feel even the slightest bit of joy inside that cold heart of yours!" the spirit assured. "But, I clearly haven't done my job, since you don't know how to spend a Christmas morning, my friend!" It scolded, standing from its crouched position beside the man's bed.

It was a woman. A short, plump, carefree, dark skinned woman. One with pink cheeks and a smile that showed off pearly white teeth. She wore a flattering, sparkling green dress with pink accents and glitter all over it. She was young, perhaps even younger than the last spirit he'd seen. "Oh, what is it, honey?" she laughed, gliding up to him. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Pulitzer was not laughing.

"Oh, cheer up, darlin'! You're back in the Present now!" she laughed, tapping his arm as he glared at her. "Unlock the door and let the music in, Joe! It's Christmas Day!" The spirit was bight and confident, even more so than the last. She glowed, not figuratively, but literally, as if she had spot light following her every which way. "Are you ready, honey?"

With a small shake of his head, Joseph could be nothing but honest with the beautiful ghost. "In all honesty, Spirit," he whispered, looking up at her, "I'm not sure I am…"

But she scoffed. "No use dwelling on the past, honey. Ya can't outrun it, but you sure as hell learn from it," she explained. Her voice was soothing to him. He couldn't place why. "Now… let's get you out of here and down onto the streets of New York… Christmas wait for no one, my friend!"

Before the man could even begin to rush back and hide beneath the covers of his bed, he was on the snowy, freezing cold streets of Manhattan. No one seemed bothered by that, though. No. Everyone seemed much too happy for that. "Recognize that building?"

That was enough to get Pulitzer's attention. He looked up. They were standing right outside of his building. His company.

And there, walking past them in a rush, was his assistant who looked as if he were late for something. He watched as the man fished some change out of his pocket as he passed by the carolers who were once again standing just outside the entrance to The World. He tossed whatever spare coins he had in their bucket and stopped for a moment, reaching out to shake their hands, offering a small thank you, before rushing down the street.

Joseph made to follow the boy. But a hand on his arm stopped him. "Not yet, Joseph, darling. First… lets go dancing!"

The caroler sang louder and an invisible orchestra seemed to begin accompanying them. The music was loud and cheery and everything that Joe had been trying to avoid.

Forcefully, the spirit pulled him down the road, twirling him around in the snow as he had no way to stop it. "Hey!" he cried, trying to rip himself from her grip.

But he stopped fighting when he was whirled around and forced to look at each and every happy face of every man, woman and child rushing down the streets of New York, bags and gifts in hand, treats smothered across their faces as they went to celebrate this commercial of a holiday.

For some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to be upset or angry in any way. A lightness took over him as people sang with those carolers who smiled and danced as they walked by.

He had no time to dwell as he was pulled continually down the road. The spirit didn't stop to let him watch.

She kept on dancing and caroling her way through the cold, but cheerful streets of Manhattan. He lost sight of where they were completely, just as he began to enjoy the music.

That's when things went quiet.

"Ah, here we are!"

Here was a small apartment that was somewhere deep within Manhattan. Somewhere warm and festive, but still small and simple. "Where… where are we-"

"No… he's not coming…" a voice sighed from behind him. Joseph whirled around at the familiar voice. "No… I'll be fine. I'm glad that you decided to spend Christmas with Bill, it was about time. Don't worry about me… Merry Christmas, Darcy."

"Katherine…"

She hung up her sell phone, sighing as she plopped down on the small couch with a small television playing some old, black and white Christmas movie. It was at that moment that Pulitzer realized how much he missed that beautiful young woman. She picked up a plate of fudge that had more than likely been a gift for somebody and stuffed two pieces completely in her mouth, looking more sad than Pulitzer cared to remember her.

She had always been his happy little girl.

"Spending Christmas alone is never something anyone should have to do."

"She said she was planning a Christmas dinner with a friend…" Pulitzer stated, shaking his head as he just didn't understand who would dare leave this woman alone on Christmas. She deserved better.

She had always deserved better.

But the young woman only sulked for a moment before she looked over at a small picture frame that was set on a table just beside her. Pulitzer's heart clenched. It was a picture of their small —now broken— family. The one that Pulitzer himself had torn apart.

A small smile spread over her lips. She stood to her feet and began to sway, just like someone else once had. Pulitzer smiled and stepped closer to her, just in time to hear his baby girl begin to sing. "_Frosted window panes, candles gleaming inside, painted candy canes on the tree… Santa's on his way, he's filled his sleigh with things… things for you and for me…_"

Joseph let his hands hover above his daughters hips as she began to dance just like her mother once had. "_It's that time of year… when the world falls in love… every song you hear seems to say…_" he sang with her as she smiled. "Merry Christmas, my love…" he whispered to her, hoping she could hear him. Hoping this scene might become real.

The spirit only began to dance right along with them. "Oh, I like her! She's a sweetheart!"

Pulitzer laughed. "Yes… yes she is… even after everything… she still calls me…" he admitted, his voice quiet and reserved. "She deserves better, Spirit… so much better… better than _me_..."

Nodding and pausing in her slow sways, the ghost offered him a kind smile. "There seems to be a lot of that going around." She placed her hand on Joseph's shoulder and the shadow of his precious daughter faded, giving way to white.

So much white.

"Spirit... where are we?"

It didn't take much to deduce that it was a hospital room. A small, quiet but secluded room with a single white bed in the corner, surrounded by wires and machines and one single stuffed bear that a small child clung to with a tired grip as he breathed in and out so slowly. Anyone in the small vicinity of the room could hear each and every inhalation he took through the small tube in his nose.

The boy was so small. Smaller than any child the old man had dared take notice to in a long while. Four, if Pulitzer were to guess. He'd put money on it. The scrawny, pale kid couldn't be older than four. He listened intently to every breath the child took in. They were forcefully deep and moved his small chest up and down with a grey blanket and a hospital gown. The boy's weak grip on his teddy bear was enough to bring forward something in the man's chest. Something he hadn't felt in a long time.

It was Christmas Day. And no one was here with this boy.

At least, not until moments later. Not until the door creaked open with a sort of hesitance that Joseph was sure he'd never had in his entire life. "Spirit..." Pulitzer called again. "Who is that boy?" he dared to ask, never once taking his eyes off of that precious, sleeping form.

The spirit beside him didn't move, and stared down at the boy just the same, sadness growing in her eyes. "That's Jack Kelly's brother, Joe... his only living relative... that's Tyler James," the ghost beside him stated, as if Pulitzer should have known.

A pang of guilt shot through the man's heart. Pulitzer should have known.

"How's he doin'?" a familiar voice with a thick New York accent asked, stepping cautiously into the small room with his hands shoved into his pockets as he took in the sight of that child, his voice soft and loving.

Pulitzer didn't know what this feeling was. But suddenly, it was like his heart was dropping down into his stomach. "Kelly..."

"He's been sleepin' for most of the night, but he ain't any worse off. Been callin' for you though..." There were two other men in the room. Jack and a nurse. A nurse that was only a bit taller than Jack and only possibly a few years older. One with dark brown hair and kind brown eyes.

Nodding a bit, Jack sighed, setting down his old coat and his backpack. That coat was wearing thin and that backpack had a broken zipper and a whole in its side. Joe wondered silently how his assistant had even managed such a thing before immediately shoving the thought to the back of his running mind. He watched as his employee took a couple steps forward, reaching to pet the small child's hair. That was when Pulitzer first caught sight of the bluest eyes he had ever seen. A sort of blue that he couldn't even begin to describe. One that made the morning sky on its best day look like night. He saw a smile that rivaled the sun with its brightness when that little child looked up to see the man that stood over him. "Jackie..."

The old man looked over to the spirit with wide eyes when he felt something in his chest tighten. That boy's voice was weak. It was breathy and shaken and quiet. It was broken. Sick. It was so small.

But Jack didn't even seem to notice. "Hey, baby..." Jack whispered, thumbing at the boy's cheek. "Merry Christmas..." he breathed, even more lovingly.

"Merry Christmas, J..." The child held fast to his stuffed bear, even as he tried to scoot closer to his big brother. A hand went down on his shoulder from behind. He pouted, squeezing the life out of the small comfort he held in his small, skinny arms.

Jack laughed and the nurse shushed the child. "It's okay, Tyler," the other man soothed, walking around the bed to a chair that was set in front of a small computer screen. "Jack ain't goin' nowhere..." he promised.

Nodding along, Jack agreed. "Yeah, he's right... I's stayin' right here all night..." The young man was so quiet. But the joy in his voice could be heard from miles away.

At that, the boy gasped in awe. And Pulitzer could hardly breathe. All he could do was stand and watch as this boy smiled so easily, simply at the news that he wouldn't be alone that night. Simply at the news of being able to spend Christmas night with the only family he had.

_"__He's only six..."_

The vague memory of those words played over and over again in Joseph's mind. And it crushed him even more when he looked down at that boy again. He was so small. He looked so much younger than six. He looked so innocent, laying there so helplessly, just so happy that he had his brother with him.

"Hey, Dave?" Pulitzer blinked himself out of his own thoughts at the voice of his underpaid assistant. The one he was always so hard on. "Hey... do ya think maybe I could... uh... you think maybe I could hold him?" Jack's voice was quiet and unsure. The boy on the bed was hooked up to so machines and wires.

But when that boy looked up so pleadingly at the nurse above him, there was no answer anyone could give him accept for the one that he got. The man in the scrubs sighed and looked from Jack down to the child on the bed. It was as if Pulitzer could feel his heart being torn apart in his chest. He didn't understand it. He didn't know this child or the man who was begging to simply be able to hold him. What did it matter to him?

He watched the tall nurse nod slowly before standing to his feet and pushing Jack aside to help the small kid out of the bed. "Okay, Tyler... I'm gonna let Jack hold you for a minute... but only for a minute, okay? You need ta rest..."

Tyler nodded almost violently. He still held his teddy bear tight and squeezed his eyes shut when Davey began to carefully untether him from the machines that were there to cater to him and help him.

The ones that were there to keep him alive.

"Spirit... why didn't Kelly ever tell me that Tyler was ill?" he asked quietly, this whole scene tearing him apart inside. He could've done something. He could help. He could help this child. This little boy who had nothing. He could help.

The spirit turned to him. There was a certain anger to it as it did, one that burned within it's eyes. "He tried. You wouldn't listen." It was as simple as that. Joe didn't recall. He couldn't remember Jack speaking of it.

He couldn't remember Jack speaking of anything. Had he ever once listened to the young man?

Pulitzer tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He watched as that precious boy was lifted so delicately into his big brother's arms. He stared intently as the boy melted into the young man's chest, looking as though he weighed absolutely nothing, looking completely boneless as he lay his sleepy head down on Jack's shoulder. But that was nothing compared to the way that young man looked down to that little boy. "Hey, kid..." he breathed, his hands shaking ever so slightly.

The boy didn't move from the perfect position against the young man's chest. He sighed. "Hi, Jackie-Bear..."

The boy smiled tiredly as Jack began to sway on his feet a little bit. "How w's your day yesterday, Racer?"

It sounded like an old routine. One they had to go through. One that made them both grasp to something that felt familiar; something constant.

The child's grin seemed to widen, albeit sleepily, at the simple question. "Charlie came n' read me a story yest'rday... n' we watched The Grinch... n' Spottie brought me a new blanket..." he stated, curling his tiny fists into his brother's sweatshirt. "I missed 'em..." he explained before a precious yawn escaped him and he melted even further into the man who looked down on him with more love than Pulitzer could recall ever feeling. A type of love that was said only a parent could feel. Jack was feeling that right now.

"I know, baby... they'll be back t'night, I promise..."

"F'r Christmas?"

Nodding and beginning to pace and rock around the room with the child in his arms, Jack nodded. "Yeah... f'r Christmas..." he confirmed, though his voice was still so quiet.

The boy nodded against the young man. Pulitzer had forgotten what this had felt like. What _feeling_ had felt like. It was almost horrible and most definitely foreign. But suddenly, it was like a flood had broken through the dam he'd built around his heart.

He watched that boy doze off on his brother's shoulder, seeing Jack shush and coo at him. It never occurred to the old man that this boy whom he'd hired almost a year ago had things to truly worry about. After all, he was so young.

Those piercing blue eyes blinked open again. And Joseph couldn't help but be memorized. "Why d'ya think Santa didn't come 'round again this year, Jackie?" his small, airy voice asked.

The way Jack paused did not go unnoticed by the old man who took a few silent steps closer to the pair who were already being closely monitored by the nurse sitting at the small desk beside the bed. He wanted to reach out, try and get the man to notice him, to offer some kind of reassurance or help. Jack couldn't see him. He cradled the boy even closer to his chest, breathing out so slowly and closing his eyes for just a moment. "Santa's doin' his best, kiddo, I promise... he's workin' hard f'r you... he just needs a little more time this year..." he breathed finally, brushing a kiss up against the boy's forehead.

That child looked as fragile as air. He could break into pieces any moment. This may be the last one he had.

As that small boy breathed in heavily, his small frame moving with every breath, he loosened his death grip on the small stuffed animal in his arms. He was getting tired, though he'd just woken up. "I been good this year, bubba..." the boy whispered.

Jack nodded, continuing in his pace back and forth across the small room. "Yeah... yeah, you have..." he agreed.

In his sleepy daze, the child nodded and dropped the topic, moving onto another and somehow making Pulitzer's heart hurt even more. "When can I go home?"

It was a simple question, one that any parent should have been able to answer with a quick _"Soon"_ or a _"tomorrow"._ Not Kelly. Kelly couldn't say that. Because that would make Kelly a liar. If there was one thing Jospeh Pulitzer knew about Jack Kelly, it was that he was no liar.

But Jack seemed to respond easily anyways, as if Tyler James asked it every night. "Home? No, Racer, we're goin' ta Santa Fe, remember? We're gonna ride the horses n' run outside in the fields n' you don't gotta lie 'round in bed no more..." he promised.

An exhausted smile spread back on the boy's face. "_Santa Fe... you can bet..._" he sang in a whisper. It must've been all he could muster. But it made Jack melt all the same.

Unable to take his eyes off of the small child in Jack's arms, Joe breathed out. Then, for what must have been the first time, the old man looked up at the young man who had been working for him for what felt like decades. For the first time, he saw the pureness of that young man. He saw the walls coming down, only for this moment. For the first time he saw how young this man was. "_We won't let no bastards beat us..._" Jack sung back to his baby brother. "_We won't beg no one ta treat us fair n' square... there's a life that's worth the livin'... n' I'm gonna do my share..._"

His voice was so soft. So smooth. Pulitzer had never known he'd had it in him. He hadn't ever known Jack could be so careful or gentle with something. He hadn't ever known that this little boy existed. He should have known. He should have asked.

He should have cared.

"I'm sorry we ain't in Santa Fe, JJ..." the boy whispered, yawning again and losing his grip in his bear completely.

Jack shifted the child so he rested in only one arm and steadied the bear against Tyler James. "We'll get there, baby... but I don't need nothin' else so long 's I got you..."

There was something inside Pulitzer that was crying out, though he found his lips melting into a small, sad smile. That baby boy was more precious than anything he'd seen in a long time. He could see his own child in his arms, a long time ago. He forgot what it felt like. To have nothing but that little baby keeping him going, making him smile.

It was like that same thing, that same feeling was happening all over again, only with someone else. Someone who needed so much help.

Help that he could give. Help that he'd withheld for so long.

"I thought ya wan'ed ta be rich..." the boy breathed.

"'m as rich as a king when I get ta hold ya, boy," Jack whispered, pressing another, firmer kiss to Tyler's blond, curly locks.

That was when the nurse sighed and waved Jack over to the bed. Time was up. Jack had to let the boy go back to sleep.

The most magical day of the year for so many six year olds in the world, and this one was about to be laid down in a hospital bed all over again, while his family stood there and wondered truly how long he had left.

The young New Yorker nodded as he made his way back over to the bed. And he lay his baby brother back down more gently than anything Joseph had ever seen. "Merry Christmas, my little angel..." Jack whispered as he lay him down.

That boy didn't waste a second. He sat up as quick as he could and wrapped his small arms as far as they could reach around his brother's waist. "Merry Christmas, my Jackie..." he responded with a crooked grin spread across his face.

Jack laughed and helped him lay back down. He began to sing all over again. A Christmas song this time. "_I'm dreamin' of a white Christmas... just like the ones I used ta know..._" He pet the child's hair as the machines were turned back on and the tubes and wires were replaced. "_Where the tree tops glisten... and children listen... to hear sleigh bells in the snow..._"

The boy turned his little head towards the touch and sighed in content, letting his protector sing him to sleep on Christmas Day.

And Pulitzer couldn't move.

"Spirit... that boy... he's going to die..." the man stated, knowing how these kinds of stories ended. He shook his head, turning back to the ghost that once took the form of a young woman. He gasped when he was met with the sight of a frail dame, much older than himself with those same chocolate brown eyes that the young female had once had. "Spirit?"

"It's about time I leave you, Joseph," the woman rasped, her hair turning whiter and whiter by the second, right before his very eyes. It was happening so quickly as the world around him spun. Suddenly he was back in his bedroom. His head whirled just as the universe had as he fell to his knees with a sort of nausea he'd never experienced before.

"Wait... Spirit..." he began to plead, truly unsure of why.

He was hunched over, gripping at his aching stomach. He blinked hard, trying to figure out what was happening. "What's happening to me?" He could vaguely hear someone screaming. When he closed his eyes again, he caught a glimpse of Jack Kelly, scooping up his baby brother, looking even smaller than he had mere seconds ago, tears rushing down his face as he ran out the door of a small, run down apartment.

Opening his eyes, Joseph felt tears in his own eyes. He looked up, wanting to beg the once kind, young soul for some sort of relief. But the old woman in front of him was much different than she had been only moments ago. Her once round, warm features were harsh and cold. Her eyes were angry.

He shook his head, frightened of this unfamiliar feeling of helplessness he felt. "I didn't know..."

"You didn't want to know. You were blinded by ignorance and greed," the spirit stated easily, scowling as it back away from him.

Breathing in deeply as the nausea subsided, Joe wearily blinked away the tears. "That child... is he going to die?" he asked, knowing the inevitable answer, but hoping there was something, anything he could do to prevent that dark future.

But that woman continued to grow older and older before him. "He'd be better to die and decrease the surplus population," she mocked. Her green ensemble began to fade and turn black.

"You mock me with my own words!" the old man cried. He didn't care what he'd said. He hadn't known. He had been a fool. He had been running a business.

A business he'd gladly give up if it meant keeping that precious child alive.

"Who are you to decide who lives and who dies?" the ghost spat. The room was growing dimmer as her light began to fade. "If these shadows remain unchanged, the child will die..."

Pulitzer blinked. The spirit was gone.

And the clock struck three.

**I'm gonna be honest... this story started with the Jack and Race scene and I completely wrote around it. **

**As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Love ya, kids! **


	5. Come The Future You’ll Remember Me

**Hello again and welcome to...**

**THE FUTURE!**

**PeggyLaurens1: I know! He's just a baby! I love him! Thank you so much for reading! (Good guess for past, but not quite on target, though if I ever do write any other versions of this story, I might use that) **

**Disneyfan10: I'm so glad you liked it! Thank you so much! **

**Mickey00: No it's a hard one to guess, really. There's one line that I thought might rip you guys off, but you will find out, come the last chapter. Thank you for reading! **

**Please enjoy! **

The world froze. Joseph held his breath, unsure of what to expect.

He waited.

_Nothing. _

He breathed out, cautiously looking around, terrified to move. Something would surely jump at him and scream at him for doing something wrong.

He wouldn't stop them. He would welcome the criticism. That is what scared him the most.

Seconds ticked by slowly as the man waited, his body growing colder and colder as the moments drug by. He didn't see the world around him change. Not until the fog rose up, covering his head as he rest on his knees.

He looked up, shocked by the sudden change of scenery for a moment. He stood cautiously, wondering where on earth he'd been taken this time, praying that it would be something different, something that put his rare smile back on his face.

He'd forgotten what it had been like to be so carefree. To just smile. To care.

The hopes of any more of that were dashed immediately when he let himself focus on the darkened place that surrounded him. He was among death. And he couldn't get away from it.

Standing amongst a large graveyard, the old man pulled his pajamas tighter around himself. It was freezing. He surveyed the area, unsure of what he would see or what he was supposed to see.

That is, until he turned to find a hooded figure standing just before him, head bowed and cane in hand. It was a dark, ominous creature, covered by a cloak from head to toe. He gasped at the sudden sight, taking a single startled, step backwards. It didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood simply in silence, waiting.

So Joseph took in a shaky breath. "Am I in the presence of the Spirit of Christmas Yet To Be?" The spirit nodded solemnly. But Pulitzer cocked his head, something in his mind clicking. "You... you're the-"

The spirit was quick. In one swift motion, their cane lifted up into the air before cracking down on the ground. The world didn't spin, but within an instant the graveyard was gone, replaced with the streets of a city he'd used to know so well.

He was in Manhattan. The streets of Manhattan. And somehow, everything looked so different.

"Spirit, show me what you must... please..." he begged. "I know your purpose is to do me good." He did. Even if he hadn't first known that this night would be one that changed everything he thought he knew.

With a shaken hand, the spirit lifted its arm, an old, ungloved hand pointing in the direction of something behind the man. Taking a slow breath, he nodded and turned to the sight that must somehow be important.

He didn't like what he saw.

"Hannah?" he called quietly, watching as his secretary sat outside on the freezing streets in absolute silence. She didn't move. She didn't speak, she stared just ahead, her eyes wide, as if she'd seen a ghost. People passed her by, paying her no mind at all as she pulled her knees to her chest.

Men walked passed her with a stretcher. There was a body on it, one covered with a sheet, like he might've seen in a television show sometimes. Someone had died.

"Spirit, who is this? Who's died?" he asked turning back to the cloaked figure. The head beneath that hood tilted slowly to the side, as if it was confused.

But Pulitzer looked back up at the woman sitting on the curb. He watched as someone approached her. "You called?" They asked. They wore hoods. He couldn't see their faces. But she pointed up behind her into the vaguely familiar building she sat outside.

"Take what you want..." she decided, standing to her feet, looking sick to her stomach. "Take it all..." She took a key out of her pocket, tossing it to them as she began walking away. One of the three caught it easily. "I expect cash in full, in the morning, for all of it..."

And then she stumbled on down the street, looking straight ahead, not once even making any kind of effort to turn back.

There was no more need.

"What is this?" Pulitzer asked quietly, turning back to his guide to the future.

The figure was still dark, but there was a certain light to it. Not one that made Joseph feel safer or warmer, no. This light was more that of an informative one. One that was meant to teach. One that Joseph had the strange urge to wholeheartedly learn from.

The cloaked figure stood in the middle of the street, so simply still it was agonizing.

Until the hand that gripped onto a jagged cane fell to the ground. The the figure stood up straighter, seeming to grow three feet. The old man had to look up at it as it waved its large hands around, causing chaos to arise around them. Chaos of the past and the present, voices that the man knew and used to know and places he would've never admitted he missed seeing.

It swirled around him, almost mocking him, flashing in his face over and over again.

Then, everything was quiet. Something was beeping. The whole world was dark. There was a sadness in the air when Pulitzer found himself transported back into a familiar hospital room, looking out the window of the door to the hallway and finding Jack Kelly standing outside, tears streaming freely down his face as the nurse, David, sadly shook his head.

Joseph's heart dropped as he turned around. The cloaked figure stood next to the bed, watching over the child who still lie there, supposedly a year older, but looking smaller and weaker than ever.

The small beep of the machine beside him was slow and getting slower by the second. His chest was barely rising as every gasp he took in was more a wheeze than a breath. Pulitzer couldn't breath either.

He turned, hardly able to stay and watch what would inevitably happen next. Instead, he walked through that door effortlessly, knowing he was no longer solid.

"Is he in pain?" Jack asked with a tight sob, trying so hard not to break.

The nurse shook his head. He had tears in his eyes too. "No... he's not..." he promised, holding back sobs himself. "What do you wanna do?"

Almost without truly thinking about it, Jack let out another small sob. "I wanna hold him," he stated, pushing past the other man and walking right through Pulitzer who shook his head in disbelief and followed the sad young man into the dimmed hospital room.

"Spirit... please, show me something else," Joseph begged.

The spirit only tilted its head beneath its dark cloak, as if it was confused at the request. The scene did not change. Pulitzer was forced to watch Jack desperately shake his little brother away. "Baby... baby, open your eyes... please?" he whispered, already gathering the child up in his arms, even before David even finished unhooking him from the machines.

The machines that were no longer making a difference.

"Spirit, show me no more!" Joseph cried, his throat tightening as those blue eyes hardly even slid open.

"J'ck?" the child breathed weakly, curling loosely against his big brother's chest. "JJ...?"

"Yeah, baby... yeah, wake up f'r a minute, okay?" the young man asked as he was able to cradle the small child after all the wires and tubes were taken away.

"'m I goin' home?" the child asked, his voice weak, but hopeful, almost as if he truly believed that was what was happening.

But Jack shook his head head, letting out another sob. "No! No, we're goin' ta Santa Fe! We're goin' ta ride the horses n' run through the fields n'-" he was holding fast to that small boy who was clueless to the situation.

"n' I-I g-get ta b-be outside..." the child's voice was like the wind. Pulitzer tried to reach out for him, to try and help, to do something to fix this.

Jack nodded vigorously. "Yeah! Yeah... no more bed... I'll be there every night n' we can make s'mores and sit around the fire n' tell stories n' everythin' will be just fine..." he promised, even more tears coming to his eyes, even as he tried to smile through them. He tried to calm down, to be strong for the baby boy that lay so still in his strong but shaking arms. "We'll be okay... you'll be okay..." he tried to convince the boy, and himself.

The old man stood mere inches from the broken pair. He shook his head. "Tell me what to do! I'll do it! Just don't let that boy die!" he begged the spirit who still did nothing. The spirit was by far the most difficult yet, not to mention the most frightening.

The child, brought up a shaking hand, clearly wanting something to grasp. Jack shifted him into one arm and then wrapped his fingers around the boy's small palm. "J'ckie?"

Nodding, Jack sniffled. "What, baby? What?"

"Do I make you sad?"

If there was anything in the world that could break the rock that had somehow encased Pulitzer's heart, it was that small, broken question of a boy who still had so much to share with the word.

Jack's eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head, crying even harder. "_No_... no... you make me the happiest man alive, Tyler James... ain't nothin' in the world I want more 'n you n' me t'gether..." he swore, his voice breaking at the end. His legs were shaking, just as the rest of his body was. "Ain't no one 'r nothin' I love more 'n you..."

The child's bright blue eyes dropped heavily as he let his big brother thumb over his palm and wrist. "But you's cryin'..."

Jack shook his head again and leaned down to rest his forehead on his baby brother's. "_Shhhh_..." He moving to press a kiss to the boy's hairline as he sunk down to his knees and rocked the child back and forth. "Ain't nothin' or no one I love more 'n you..."

The boy was clueless, but Pulitzer couldn't decide if he was truly in the dark or took after his brother in his skills of pretending; pretending that everything would just be okay tomorrow.

They couldn't do much else.

"I'm tired, Jack..." the boy whimpered, swallowing hard. His small torso moved so harshly with every small gasp he took.

Whimpering just the same, Jack responded sadly, "I know, kiddo... just stay awake a little longer, okay?" he asked quietly, rocking the boy back and forth in one of his arms as he carefully grasped the boy's hand and held it beneath his chin.

The nurse stood by watching, another man was standing in the open doorway, watching the scene just as sadly. He looked completely heartbroken, just like the rest of the room.

"Why?" Pulitzer shook his head and sniffled as he watched those blue eyes slid shut. "'m sleepy, bubba..."

But Jack gripped him tighter. "I know, but I j'st need ya ta stay awake a little bit longer! Please, Tyler! Please just stay awake a little bit longer!" he begged, his tears too much for him.

But the man standing in the door way rushed forward, limping as he did so. "Jack..."

"Don't make me do this, Charlie," Jack begged quietly, subtly brushing over his baby brother's ear, covering it as he spoke and tucking the other one to his chest. "Tell me what to do! There has to be somethin'! There has ta be someone!"

The other man looked to the nurse for help. And David blinked away the tears. Pulitzer kneeled down beside his assistant and the helpless child in his arms, reaching out to touch the boy's forehead and gasping as his fingers brushed over those blond locks.

Tyler inhaled through his nose, turning into the odd, soft, but unfamiliar touch, only cracking his eyes open for a second. Joseph's heart stopped when that boy looked right into his eyes. He looked so hurt, only just for a moment, before his eyes slid shut again and he curled further into his brother's chest.

"Jack... you have ta let him sleep..." David whispered, gripping at Jack's shoulder.

Charlie nodded, wiping at his eyes. "He's had enough, Jamie... let him go..."

Jack froze for a moment as all hope seemed to drain straight from his eyes as these two men who Pulitzer knew nothing about told him that he had to let it be over. It hurt. It hurt to watch. It hurt to hear. It hurt to know it didn't have to be this way. It hurt to know that Joseph could've done something to stop it.

The young man sniffled, brushing over Tyler's hair and leaning down again to kiss his baby's head. "You're my everythin', Racer... you know that?"

The tired boy sighed and buried his face in his guardian's sweatshirt. "Merry Christmas, my Jackie..." the boy whispered.

Taking in a trembling breath, Jack lowered his head. "Merry Christmas, my angel..." he answered, his voice hardly more than a whisper. He leaned down even closer to his baby brother's small ear. "I love you, Tyler James..." he breathed.

The child relaxed completely into his grip, "L-love you..." the child responded as the grip he had on Kelly's fingers weakened, soon going completely slack. His breaths grew shorter, until they continued no more. Those blue eyes hid completely until the end of time.

And Jack screamed.

The invisible old man shook his head and cried right along with the artist as he screamed and cursed the world, cursed God, for giving him something so precious and perfect, and ripping it right out of his arms. "Spirit... why would you show me this? Why do you torture me?"

The spirit had not yet moved from its place beside the bed. It remained silent as Joseph had trouble tearing his eyes off the scene in front of him. Jack screamed and rocked the limp boy in his arms desperately, unable to truly breathe as the two young men tried to get him to let up his grip.

Jack shoved them away and held tight to Tyler James who lived no more.

James Kelly looked up, over his brother's head. And just as his brother had before him, he looked right at the old man who had thought he was invisible. Pulitzer recognized the blame in those normally calm, kind eyes.

It was his fault. It was all his fault.

Pulitzer cried. Tears spilled down his face for the first time in what must have been years. Jack fought hard. He held that body tightly against him until more people rushed in through that door to hold him back as that child was gently taken from his arms.

The young man fell to his hands and knees in complete agony, punching the ground as hard as he could as the rage and sorrow filled him up so quickly.

Pulitzer couldn't hear him screaming. But he could feel the helplessness.

Suddenly the walls vanished around them. The solid ground became sort grass and the bed became a stone. A grey, dull tombstone that did the boy who lie beneath it no justice at all. The joy and eagerness of that boy could never be expressed again.

_In Loving Memory of Tyler James Kelly. Taken too soon, a son, a brother, and a light. December 11th 2013- December 25th 2020_

The young man gripped at the grass, staring at the thing as a light rain poured over him, in a raincoat that surely would not protect him for very long. Flowers lay beside the grave, a single letter, a small teddy bear, and a race car, rusty and dirty and used. "I told ya I wan'ed ta be rich... I told ya we'd be rich n' we'd go ta Santa Fe n' neva' have ta worry 'bout nothin'... n' we neva' had that... we neva' had nothin'..." Jack croaked out, holding back sobs. "A-all I had was you..."

All Pulitzer could do was sit and watch. "No... no! I won't let it happen! I won't! I'll change! I'll-"

A shriek cut him off. He covered his ears quick at the ear piercing sound. He closed his eyes as the noise rung around in his head.

Then everything stopped.

Joe cautiously opened his eyes as the cloaked figure stood directly in front of him raising its shaky hand and pointing at something behind the old man. So he turned slowly.

In a matter of second he saw his young, broken assistant wither away before him. In a matter of seconds he saw what must've happened in a matter of months.

The young man didn't sleep. He didn't eat. He drank more than Pulitzer though possible and never left his bed. He began to smoke, experienced and easily, like he'd come back after quitting for many years. He got thinner fast, always had bags under his eyes and never answered the door.

Not even to the nurse or any friends who begged him to just let them in.

In a matter of seconds Joseph watched his assistant lose all hope, lose himself and lose his will to live.

And suddenly he was back in a graveyard, staring at another gravestone just beside the one that he'd just seen.

_James Francis Kelly. November 16, 1995- May 19, 2021. He's back with his angel._

"Not him... Spirit... not them... I beg of you, no! Show me what I can do! Tell me there's something! Tell me these shadows can be changed!" The Spirit hovered over those gravestones, cocking it's head grimly at the loud request. "Why won't you speak?!"

In one swift, sharp movement, that spirit pointed with a strong arm. There was a force that made the old man turn, shocked at what he saw.

"Katherine..."

The young woman stood a ways away from him, standing solemnly over someone's grave. Though, she had no tears in her eyes. Someone stood beside her. Someone Pulitzer did not recognize. A man.

"I'm sorry for you loss, Miss..."

She shook her head and crossed her arms, her hair blowing in the light wind as she simply stared down at the tomb. "Don't be. He's been gone for much longer than it says here... I came to terms with it a long time ago..."

The man nodded and watched as she placed some flowers beside the grave. White orchards. Joseph's heart dropped. "No..."

"Goodbye, Father..." she whispered, pressing her fingers to her lips and pressing a kiss to them before placing her hand on the top of the stone.

Pulitzer rushed around to see it for himself, not believing it. But there it was.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. His own name carved into that stone so dauntingly, with little else on it. "Joseph Pulitzer..." he read, a sob escaping his lips. "Spirit, I don't want to die," he stated, his voice shaking. "Please! I'll change! Please tell me I can change this! Tell me what I can do!"

The spirit lowered its head, beginning to fade before his very eyes. "Speak to me, dammit!" he cried, completely desperate.

He tried to stand, to grab at it, to ask questions, to plead more and more.

But he couldn't move.

His knees began to sink into the ground. It was like quicksand. Joe gasped, pulling at his legs that wouldn't move. He sunk quickly into the soft ground until he found himself buried in his own coffin. "Please! Please, I'll change! Please don't let me die! Katherine!"

He pounded on the ceiling of the box, feeling tears trail down his cheeks, making him shiver and sob even more. "I'll change!"

"Look to yourself..." a voice rasped. "Look to yourself, before it's too late..."

All Pulitzer could do was scream.

**Wow. So. There's that. **

**I'm... I'm so sorry...**

**As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review. Love you, friends!**


	6. God Bless Us, Everyone

**You have arrived at the last chapter! **

**Don't worry... we've got happy thoughts here! **

**erster135: Oh my goodness thank you so much! Race is my favorite to mess with like this. And he's such a baby! And POOR JACK! I just love them both so much and I love making them so close. It's my favorite thing. Thank you for reading! **

**PeggyLaurens1: I am so sorry! But I love that's chapter so much! It was actually the first complete chapter I had, haha. Thank you so much for reading! And crying...**

**Disneyfan10: Oh of course there will be a happy ending! I'm not that mean! Thank you so much for reading! **

**Please enjoy! **

Joseph awoke with a start, sitting up quick when he realized he could breathe again.

He let himself take in his surroundings with wild, terrified eyes.

_Bed. Chair. Window. Blanket._

Joseph laughed.

God help him, he _laughed_.

Hardly able to contain himself, he jumped up from his bed, shoving the sheets aside. He was all giddy, something he could hardly recognize. He felt like a boy all over again. Because he was alive. And he was so happy to be alive.

He reached for his phone, praying there was still time.

When he realized it was only four AM, he could hardly contain himself.

_December 25th._

Again, all he could do was laugh. He didn't care that the sun hadn't risen yet. He didn't care that someone would surely scream at him for what he was about to do next. He was just so happy to be there, to be alive, to be able to change.

To be able to help.

Without even hardly thinking, Pulitzer opened his phone and dialed a a familiar number. The thing rang for a long while.

She didn't pick up. Not the first time. So Joe called her again.

"Joseph Pulitzer, you better have a damn good reason for waking me up right now," someone snarled through the speaker.

That didn't make Joseph's smile falter in any kind of way. "Hannah, I need your help!"

Shock came through the phone clear, though silent, as the woman on the other end must've frozen. "Mr. Pulitzer... are you alright?"

A barking laugh escaped him. "I'm better than I've ever been!" he stated, reaching up to run a hand through his hair and taking in every detail of his bedroom before opening the door and turning on his lights and standing at the top of his stairs. The memories hit him again and he welcomed them. The light ones. The ones of his brother who was the reason he'd survived, the ones of his wife who was a light amidst so much darkness, the ones of his daughter who was the best miracle he could have ever asked for.

But the woman on the other end of the line still did not understand. "Are you drunk?"

The old man ignored the question completely. "Hannah, I need your help!" he insisted once again, so many thoughts and ideas rushing through his head as he tried to focus on just one. "I need to know about the hospital that Kelly's brother is at, and I need to know who his doctors and nurses are!"

"Joseph, you leave that poor boy alone!" Hannah scolded quick, clearly assuming the worst, though Pulitzer wasn't even sure what that would be.

So he took a deep breath to try and calm himself. "I... I'm not going to do anyone any harm... I promise." He ran a hand over his face. "I want to help... I just want to help that little boy..."

Again, his reply was silence.

"Hannah... I've been doing nothing but working for years, caring about no one but myself," he explained, shaking his head as he remembered. Save. That's all he ever did. He saved. For himself. "But I have so much to give. And I want to do it. I want to help. I want to give Tyler James Kelly a Christmas..." The words shocked even him. Just not quite as much as they shocked the woman on the other end of that call.

But that didn't stop her from asking, "What do you wanna do?"

Pulitzer grinned.

—

The streets of New York were cheery. There was hardly a single person without a wide smile on their face.

There was snow on the ground. Gifts were everywhere. "Merry Christmas!" someone called to him, and Pulitzer turned.

"Merry Christmas!" he returned to the stranger.

Then he continued on down the street, wishing anyone and everyone he saw a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

"Well, someone's certainly found their smile," a voice laughed.

The old man's heart leapt at that voice. He stopped in his stroll down the street and turned to the person who had spoken to him.

It was the woman. The short, plump, dark skinned, beautiful woman with a kind smile and pink cheeks. "Well, it was bound to happen someday," Pulitzer joked.

The woman grinned and nodded, pulling her gloves further over his hands. "Merry Christmas, sir..." she offered, before a small boy that was so full of energy rushed up and tugged on the edge of her coat.

"Miss Medda! C'mon, c'mon!" the child insisted.

The woman smiled and reached down for the boy's hand. "Okay, Romeo... hold your horses," she laughed, before offering Pulitzer a small nod and turning to go.

"Merry Christmas, madam," the man returned, heading on further down the road, past the small bodega he'd come across the night prior.

A night that felt decades ago.

And that same young man was still standing out in the cold was struggling to get that grate up.

Joseph didn't waste a second. He rushed over to help the man get it up, struggling and fighting with it until it gave way.

The young man turned to him, wiping at his brow with a gloved hand before he nodded in gratefulness. "Thank you..." he panted, a bit confused at the offer of help, but appreciating it, nonetheless.

Joseph was still smiling as he nodded, holding out his hand to shake this man's. "Merry Christmas, Mister..." he trailed off, only realizing then that he didn't know the man's name. And this man was a man. Not a spirit.

Taking a moment to understand, the young man's eyebrows raised up. But he clasped his hand around Joseph's own and shook his hand. "Denton... Bryan Denton," he stated with a smile. "Merry Christmas, Mister Pulitzer," he returned.

And Joseph didn't pause to wonder how the man knew his name. He just continued on down the street with a cheerful spirit all around him.

It wasn't even another block before he saw the hooded blond man who had asked him for a bit of spare change just last night. He fished a bill out of his pocket and rushed up to him, gently taking the man's hand and placing the thing in between both of their palms. "Merry Christmas, sir..."

Stunned, the blind man hardly curled his cold fingers around the bill and said nothing, simply trying to figure out what was happening. But the second Joseph tried to walk away, a hand caught his arm. "The name's Todd Kloppman, sir..." he offered.

Joseph smiled. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Kloppman..."

"Merry Christmas..." the man rasped. "Th-thank you..."

With a newfound joy rolling around in his chest Joseph pat the man's arm and continued forward.

—

Jack pet his baby brother's hair so softly as he hummed to him quietly. The boy's eyes opened so slowly as Joe hovered in the open doorway. Jack hadn't heard him. Tyler had. "Happy Christmas," the boy smiled at the complete stranger who was watching him, desperate to keep his emotions at bay.

The young man sitting beside him looked down at his brother, confused only for a moment before he followed the child's gaze over to the door.

When he saw who stood there, Jack Kelly was up faster than lightning, unsure of what was happening. "Mr. Pulitzer..." he breathed, shocked and more than terrified.

"Kelly, I thought I told you to come in early," Pulitzer stated gruffly. Glancing around, bored at the plain white room.

Shaking his head and stepping in front of the bed, trying to block his baby's view of the old man, Jack tried to figure out what to do. What to say. "No... no, sir. You said ta take the day off... I'm comin' in early t'morrow..." he tried to explain. But Pulitzer only glared. Jack's heart dropped into his stomach. "Look... can we... can we talk outside? Please?" he asked, not about to get fired in front of his little boy. He couldn't let this happen.

In the quiet pause, Pulitzer did his best to hold back a smile. He pushed past Jack, only catching a glimpse of Jack holding himself back from lashing out and grabbing at his arm, wanting to keep him away from the child on the bed. "Mr. Pulitzer," the younger man tried to call.

Joe ignored him. And he looked to boy on the bed up and down. The child didn't look at all uncomfortable. He just cocked his head to the side as Pulitzer inspected him. "Who're you?" the boy asked.

"I'm Joseph Pulitzer. Your brother works for me... at least, he used to," the man stated easily. Tyler squinted in confusion.

And Jack was on the verge of tears. "Sir, please..."

"See, he works with me now. We're partners," Joe continued, making Jack do a double take. But he didn't question it. He just stared with wide eyes over at the man standing above his baby brother. "Who are you?"

The child on the bed grinned and Pulitzer was temporarily blinded with the light that came from it. "I'm Tyler James," he introduced weakly, his voice practically air as he shifted to get a better look at the man he was speaking to. "Jackie calls me 'Racer,'" he whispered.

Joe couldn't help the smile that spread on his face at that. "Well, Racer... it's a pleasure to meet you..." he said softly, catching sight of his assistant stepping closer to them out of the corner of his eye. "I actually came by to see you..."

At that, the boy looked towards Jack, almost silently asking if he knew what was going to happen. Jack didn't give him any kind of answer. So Racer gazed back at the stranger. "Why?"

Laughing a little bit, Joseph gestured to someone out in the hall. It was Davey. Jack gave him a questioning look. All the nurse could do was smile and shrug. "I got a call last night," Pulitzer explained. "From the North Pole..." Tyler gasped in awe. Pulitzer couldn't help but let his small smile turn into a grin at that. "Santa sent me ta give you your first present this year."

Tears sparked in Jack's eyes at the miracle that was happening before him. He'd never seen this man so calm, collected and gentle. He didn't know the man could be so quiet and happy at the same time. He hadn't known how soft Joseph Pulitzer could be.

The little boy on the bed looked up at Jack in wonder and excitement. "Jackie, Santa did come!" he breathed out, those blue eyes sparkling at the very idea.

With a small laugh that masked the small, confused and relieved sob that wished to tear its way from his throat, Jack nodded. "Yeah, baby... yeah, I guess he did..." he assured, moving to stand beside his baby brother's head. He rest his hand on the kid's forehead, brushing his hair back with his thumb.

"Tell me, Tyler... what was it that you asked Santa for this year?" Pulitzer asked, that soft smile still somehow on his lips.

But the child seemed a little nervous at the question. He looked up towards Jack who gave the boy a sort of questioning look. The child glanced from him and back to the man. Then he answered in a whisper that seemed a bit more purposeful than the rest. "To go home... with Jackie..." he admitted.

Jack's heart just about broke. "Racer..." he whispered, leaning down to brush a kiss over the boy's forehead. "Kid, I don't think-"

"Jack," Davey called from the doorway, effectively cutting the other man off.

Jack looked up, his eyes still watery as David made his way into the room, a few others trailing in behind him. One of them had a wheelchair. "Oh my God..." Jack breathed. He looked over at his boss, shaking his head. "Mr. Pulitzer..." he clearly could not believe what was happening.

Joe looked at him seriously, giving Jack a small nod as David walked over and grinned at Race who was looking up at him with wide eyes. "Davey?" the child asked.

"Merry Christmas, kiddo..." Davey smiled, beginning to unhook the child from a couple machines. "Are ya ready?"

Before the boy could even respond, he was being gently scooped up and placed into the wheelchair. "I'm goin' home?" he asked in complete shock.

Jack could hardly breathe. He had to be dreaming. This wasn't real. How did this man even find him? There was something in his chest, something that was hurting and healing all at the same time at that look of pure joy on his little boy's face.

"Santa really wanted you ta be home ta open all your presents today..." Joseph explained to the boy as they began to wheel him out of the hospital room.

Jack couldn't move. "I'm dreamin'... I gotta be dreamin'..." he muttered.

But Joseph shook his head. "In-home care... he's gonna make it, Jack... I'll make sure he makes it..."

Putting his disbelief aside for just a moment, Jack shook his head. "I... I can't let you do that... it's... it's too much... he's-"

"He's going home with his brother and he's going to get better," Joseph promised, his heart breaking when he saw the panic and relief in a mix on the young man's face. "Mr. Kelly, I... I didn't know... I should have, and I didn't and I'm here to help with whatever you need. I'm giving you a raise and asking you to be my partner, not because I pity you, but because you have talent and an eye for talent and you're good at what you do."

Jack still had tears in his eyes. "Joe... he's real sick..." he admitted, trying to warn his boss against such an investment.

"And you've got the best medical care money can buy," Pulitzer accepted, standing from his seat at the edge of the now empty bed. He gestured to the door. "I believe someone out there is waiting for you to take him home."

The younger man tried to take a proper breath. It came in shaky anyway as he nodded and rushed towards that door.

Tyler James Kelly was going home for Christmas. And Pulitzer let his heart feel full for a moment at that news.

"Um... Mr. Pulitzer?" his new partner called from the doorway, just as Pulitzer had begun to let himself marvel in the glee. He turned to the young man. Jack still looked hesitant, but it was becoming increasingly clear how overjoyed he was. "Would you... would ya come with? Ta get him settled? He's gonna wanna thank you..." Jack explained shyly.

With a small grin growing on his lips, the man felt his heart grow three sizes in his chest. And he nodded. "Of course..."

With a small nod, Jack motioned for him to come with. So Pulitzer did.

—

The second the door opened, Jack froze. This is not how he'd left his apartment that morning. He knew this was not how he'd left his apartment that morning.

Christmas had snuck up on the young man this year. He hadn't even hardly thought about it. Not like this.

There was a Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, decorated picture perfectly, with red and green circular ornaments hung all over it. There were white lights lit all around it and silver tinsel hanging off every branch.

The entire apartment was spotless. Jack knew he certainly hadn't left it like that. Colorful and white lights alike hung around the living room and kitchen with purpose, garland was hung over pictures and over furniture. Little trinkets of Santa Claus and reindeer and angels and trees littered the entire place. Cookies and fudge and cake was set out on the kitchen counter, not masking the smell of the feast that was waiting for them on the table.

But that wasn't what caught Jack's eye the most. What caught Jack's eye the most was the pile of gifts beneath that tree. "Holy shit..." he breathed.

He moved to step into the apartment, still believing it was a dream. But the second he went to go inside, a hand caught his sleeve. He stopped and looked down, tears sparking in his eyes all over again when he saw his little brother there, still sitting in a wheel chair, ready to be settled in his own home. "Can ya carry me, Jackie?" he asked quietly.

Without even asking another person, Jack laughed and swooped down to scoop his baby brother up, lifting him up high and then cradling him tightly to his chest, showering him in brotherly kisses as the child giggled against him.

Pulitzer watched the heart filled moment with teary eyes as the boy peaked up at him, his grin growing when his big blue eyes found him. Then the kid turned in excitement to the house that was decorated just for him.

And for the first time in six months, Jack carried his baby brother through the threshold of their apartment and a medical team brought in equipment behind them, led by Davey who walked straight back to the child's room, with a small wink in Pulitzer's direction. "Santa came, J! Santa was here!" The little boy squealed, twisting and turning in the young man's embrace.

If Jack had wanted to, he could have kept that little boy safely in his arms. But he let the weakened child slide to the ground and take his hand as he rushed, not over to the mountain of presents beneath and around that big tree, but straight to the table were all that was missing was a turkey that had to be in the oven, just judging by the glorious smell in the air. "Jackie, we can't eat all this by ourselves!"

Laughing, Jack agreed. "You're right, kiddo…" he chuckled, looking back up at Pulitzer. "Would you… wanna join us?" The young man still seemed hesitant, but there was a certain kind of hope in his voice, one that just about turned Pulitzer into a puddle. He was touched. "You could invite your family… and help Racer open all these gifts." Jack rubbed the back of his neck nervously, still holding gently to his brother's hand.

To say Joseph was stunned was the understatement of the century. He stood, completely speechless, unsure of how to respond before the small child ran up to him and threw his little arms around the man's legs. "Please?" he asked so innocently, peaking up at him with his curious eyes and blinding smile.

"I would love to, Tyler," he responded, his voice shaking as he gave the boy's head a small pat before smiling up at his new partner. "I'm sure my daughter would love to meet you."

The boy bounced on his feet, much too excited to be walking and running around for the first time in months. "Thank you, Mr. Joseph Pulitzer..." the child whispered, just before he was scooped back up by his big brother. He squealed in delight.

Jack held the child close. He cradled him and kissed his cheek before looking up at the man who had made this possible. "Thank you..." It was all he could say. He didn't know what else he could do, how on earth he could possibly repay this man.

But Pulitzer just nodded. He just hoped that this would change things.

He'd taken his chance. And he'd take every chance to come.

—

To say Katherine was nervous was... well it was spot on. After all, she had an idea of what she must be walking into. Some kind of half baked apology before her father lectured her on her life choices.

But her desire for his approval was greatly outweighed by the longing to just be with her father again, after years of Christmases spent apart. She'd begged her mother growing up to just let her spend days with her Daddy. But she was never allowed.

The call she'd received on that late Christmas morning hadn't surprised her. She'd known he'd come around eventually, even if he was still going to be somewhat cruel. What surprised her was the jolly tone of his voice. What surprised her was the way he'd said he was with his new business partner. What surprised her was this small apartment she was now standing in front of.

But Katherine Plumber was nothing if not curious.

So she knocked on that door.

When she caught sight of the young man who opened it, she froze. "Hi..." she breathed, sure that she had the wrong apartment number.

Though, before she could apologize, that young man smiled, a dreamy, far off look in his eyes. "Hi..." he responded. "Can I... uh..." He seemed to be at a loss for words as he gazed into her deep brown eyes. She felt a blush creep up her neck. "Can I help you?"

"Oh! I was just looking for my father... but I must have the wrong-"

"Katherine, darling!"

Her eyes widened. "Dad?"

Before she could blink, she was in a tight, warm embrace. And suddenly, nothing else mattered. "Hi, my love..."

She allowed herself a small smile as she got a bit teary eyed. "Hi, Dad..."

When she was allowed out of the hug, she looked at her father, who looked a bit younger than she'd expected. He had a smile on his face. One she hadn't seen in a long time. One she'd missed. "Kitty, this is my partner, Jack Kelly, and his little brother, Tyler James," he introduced, gesturing to Jack and then little Racer who was peaking over the back of the couch as his nurse continued to check him over. "Gentlemen, this is my daughter, Katherine."

Jack was quick to extend his hand. "Katherine... that is a beautiful name, Miss..."

She let out a giggle as she shook his hand. "It's very nice to meet you Mr. Kelly," she responded, flashing him a smile.

Pulitzer tried to ignore that. He took his daughters hand and led her over to the child on the couch. "Hello, Tyler James," she greeted, immediately falling in love with those big blue eyes. "It's so nice to meet you!"

The child grinned.

_Two years later..._

Joseph sat back on his own sofa, watching the scene in front of him. Some of Jack and Katherine's friends were lounging around as well on this Christmas Eve night. But Katherine and Jack were never two to sit. Especially not when a little eight-year-old boy was up and running like he was, restless and ready to stay up all night, waiting for Santa to come again.

"Racer! Slow down!" Jack laughed. "Baby, come here!" the young man cut the child off just as he came darting out of kitchen with a cookie in his hand.

Pulitzer couldn't help but note how much that child had grown. He was still skinny and small for his age, but he was shooting up like a weed in the old man's eyes. But Jack still could grab him around the waist and through the boy over his shoulder with ease. He cried out in surprise, but the childish laughs never stopped. "Davey! Charlie! Help me!" he squealed out.

Eyes sparkling as a playfully wicked grin took over Jack's features. He didn't speak before he began relentlessly tickling that baby boy up in his arms that was growing up too fast for them. "Nah-uh! You're mine, kiddo!" he teased as the child screamed and laughed all at the same time.

"No-ho!" the boy giggled. "Kitty!"

Katherine was quick. Just like her mother. She swiftly dove in and grabbed a candy cane, pointing it at her new husband. "Excuse me, sir. That's my baby boy, you've got there," she stated, using the small sugary snack as a makeshift weapon.

But Jack shook his head. "Well then, Miss, you're gonna have ta come ova' here and get him," he winked, letting his baby brother slide down into his arms so he was cradled to his chest.

Pulitzer's whole body warmed at the scene.

He watched Jack pull Katherine over to him, kissing her square on the lips as Race squirmed to get out of his embrace. He laughed at the child as he rushed to get away, only for Joseph to catch his eye. The old man gestured for him to join him on the couch. The boy grinned as he did, rushing over to him and plopping down on the empty set beside him, easily curling up at his side. "Tyler James... do you know what a gift you are?" he asked as he ran a hand over those long blond curls.

The boy shrugged and looked up at him curiously. "Jackie says I's his miracle... but I neva' did nothin'..."

Pulitzer laughed. "You did a lot more than you think you did, kiddo... you're so strong, you know that?"

Again the child shrugged. But he sighed and cuddled into the man more as he turned to watch his big brother and adoptive father twirl his wife around the family room. He let himself grin again. "God bless us, everyone..." he whispered, watching as Jack and Katherine's friends all began to dance around the room with them.

But Joseph looked down at the kid with curiosity clear in his eyes. "Where did you hear that?" he asked.

Never once taking his eyes off of the family before him, the boy shook his head. "Some book somewhere..."

Joseph nodded and laugh, taking in the sight just as the child was. And then he repeated that sentence.

"God bless us, everyone..."

**And there you have it, friends! The end. **

**For those who didn't catch it, the ghosts were Bryan Denton, Medda Larkin and Todd Kloppman. **

**Thank you all so much! **

**As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Love ya, fansies!**

**Merry Christmas! **


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